#euronymous x dead

[necroposerbird]

anatomy practice. kind of

inspired by @haywire-hetfield 's pelle/øystein fic, it's so fucken good. check it out

[haywire-hetfield]

Can u write Dead/Euronymous smutfic? I really like ur writing and it's obvious ur really talented :]

Aw, thank you! And of course 🫰

Summary: It wasn’t the first time Øystein had imagined Pelle after his death. He’d caught flashes of him everywhere off and on, mostly looking at placing Pelle used to frequent and sometimes still seeing him there. Out in the forest, it would be like nothing had changed. He’d imagine Pelle darting through the trees, chasing after God knew what, only catching glimpses of blonde hair through the greens and browns of the forest. 

Warnings: Past character death, ambiguity, hand jobs

Words: 2,550

“I’m sorry about all the blood,” Øystein wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the words at first. The voice was unmistakably Pelle’s, but that was hard to accept given the fact that the last time Øystein had seen Pelle, he’d been cleaning the blonde’s brain off of the wall. 

There was a presence behind Øystein, almost as though someone had climbed into bed with him and slid close to his back. Arms wrapped around his waist and a body cuddled against him.

It wasn’t the first time Øystein had imagined Pelle after his death. He’d caught flashes of him everywhere off and on, mostly looking at placing Pelle used to frequent and sometimes still seeing him there. Out in the forest, it would be like nothing had changed. He’d imagine Pelle darting through the trees, chasing after God knew what, only catching glimpses of blonde hair through the greens and browns of the forest. 

Sometimes, he’d even hear Pelle moving through the house. Øystein had never realized how distinctive Pelle’s footsteps were during life, but he knew they were his when he’d hear them. But none of that was as tangible as this. He’d never felt Pelle even reaching out, let alone actually touching him. 

His hands were cold as they slipped around Øystein’s waist, settling beneath his jacket and pressing against bare skin. They’d always been cold, though. The man had always seemed dead long before his time and Øystein had once joked that Pelle dying as a child had left residual effects on him, but that didn’t feel as funny now as it once had.

“You’re not real,” Øystein whispered out into the darkness of his room, unsure of what else to say. If he needed to say anything at all, he wasn’t sure what the social etiquette here was. 

Pelle’s hands pressed against the skin of his stomach more firmly, fighting the allegation. It all seemed so real, so tangible. He couldn’t fathom how his brain and body was conjuring this up if Pelle wasn’t actually there, but he also couldn’t believe he was. Maybe his brain needed him to believe this wasn’t real. 

“Does it matter?” Pelle asked him in return, voice just above a whisper. 

Øystein stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer that. He didn’t know if it did and he honestly didn’t think he was ready to think too deeply on that. Maybe he could just let this happen, letting this section of time exist as it was. Until he was ready to examine it, maybe it truly didn’t matter if Pelle was real or not. That was a problem that he could sort out at a later date. 

“I don’t think Varg will work out,” Øystein told him, breaking the silence and opting for a subject change. Pelle let out a noise of acknowledgement, staying quiet. By now, Øystein could imagine that Pelle knew when he had more to say on a subject and knew when to stay silent to let him continue. “He’s just so…He isn’t you. You weren’t even you sometimes,” He continued, opening up more than he usually could. 

He thought it was perhaps a bit depressing that the only person he could open up to was a dead person. He’d always had issues communicating, especially when it came to being vulnerable. It made sense that he was opening up to the imagination of Pelle now, he’d always been the one he felt safest with in life. 

“I was always me,” Pelle said and that was what truly scared Øystein. 

It was more distressing for Øystein to view Pelle as a multidimensional person. He preferred to pick what parts he liked of Pelle and regard that as Pelle’s “true” self. Anything outside of it wasn’t him being himself, it was someone else entirely. But Pelle brought up the terrifying prospect that his view on things wasn’t accurate and he was inclined to believe him. 

Maybe every time he’d lie in bed, unmoving and unspeaking for hours, that was a part of Pelle. Each time he would do something that was enough to even disturb Øystein and then just stared at him, a vacant look in his eyes as though he was somewhere else entirely, that was Pelle. Every conversation they would have that led to him talking about how he felt like a corpse that was still able to walk around and Øystein could just sense how genuine he was being, that was Pelle. 

“No,” Øystein said suddenly. “You weren’t always you,” His tone was decisive, leaving no room for an argument about it. Pelle sighed as though it was a great burden to not push back against the notion, but he did thankfully let the topic drop. 

There was a long period where neither said anything. The silence grew uncomfortable very quickly, feeling too cold and eerie. It reminded Øystein of the day he’d found Pelle’s body, the total silence that he’d never experienced before that day. Death carried a certain stillness that made him sick to his stomach. It had been as though the air in Pelle’s room was stagnant, not moving one way or another. 

“Do you think Varg hates me?” Øystein asked after a few seconds, deciding to default back into the previous conversation. Lately, his mind had been very narrow. If he wasn’t thinking about Pelle, he was usually thinking about Varg in some capacity. Pelle made a noise that was hard to decipher, one Øystein wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him make. Not that Pelle was very easy to read normally, but he was even more difficult now. 

“Why are you so obsessed with him?” Pelle questioned and Øystein immediately felt himself tensing up. The accusation set beneath his skin in an unpleasant way and the fact it came from Pelle made it worse. 

“I am not obsessed with him,” Øystein told him simply and hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Pelle had always been good at reading when he didn’t want to talk about something and mostly respected his wishes. This would hopefully be one of those times where he just let it go. 

Øystein turned over, dislodging the arms from his waist. He halfway expected Pelle to disappear when he moved, to vanish into the air or for his body to wake up. He wasn’t sure what state he was in now. If Pelle was another hallucination or a dream. Hell, maybe he was a ghost that had come back to haunt him. It wouldn’t surprise him, given how Pelle had been plaguing every facet of his life in some way. 

Pelle remained as Øystein flipped over to face him, though. His look was exactly how Øystein remembered him to be in life. His blonde hair was partially obscuring his face and the way the moonlight hit his skin made it look impossibly paler, almost translucent. He didn’t look real, although he hadn’t looked real even when he was. When their eyes met, Pelle’s chapped lips curled into a small smile. 

“Would you like me to take your mind off of him?” Pelle asked, putting on the same coy voice Øystein was so familiar with. They’d done this a few times before and Øystein didn’t need him to elaborate to know what he was getting at. He had to consider it this time around, though. 

He had his own reservations about sleeping with another man when Pelle was alive, the fact he was a ghost or some variation of ‘very not real’ only complicated things further. He’d also heard a story about a guy who caught a rare disease from fucking a corpse. He didn’t know if that was even real or if he could catch that from whatever state Pelle was currently in, but he ultimately decided he’d take the risk. 

“Fuck it. Yeah. Take my mind off of it,” Øystein told him, purposefully calling the situation an ‘it’ rather than ‘him.’ He couldn’t admit Pelle was right and that his mind was caught up on Varg. Pelle didn’t call him out on it, he just smiled and gave a small nod of his head. 

“Get on your back,” Pelle advised gently and Øystein went willingly. He’d just accepted his situation by now, deciding not to stress about it too much right now. In the morning, he’d be better equipped to deal with whatever he was experiencing now. This could be a weird dream and there was no sense in worrying over dreams. 

Øystein watched Pelle as he shifted closer to his side, reaching beneath the blankets to rub at him through his boxers. His hands had always felt nice, long and skilled at whatever he was doing at any given moment. He curled his bony fingers around Øystein’s cock through the fabric, stroking along the skin. It was teasing, just enough to rile Øystein up and get him hard, but not enough to actually get him off. 

Øystein was patient. He knew Pelle had always followed through and he didn’t see any reason why he’d stop now. He could feel himself hardening beneath the touch, cock beginning to leak precum into his boxers. It made the fabric stick and drag along his skin, applying an amount of friction that was bordering on painful. As if Pelle could read his mind, he pulled his hand away. 

“Take them off,” Pelle encouraged. Øystein moved to comply embarrassingly fast, but he chose to ignore the giggle it drew from Pelle. It wasn’t like he could share the experience with Øystein to anyone and laugh about it, and Øystein honestly didn’t care if Pelle judged him. He focused on kicking his boxers off, not caring about where they landed. His legs spread easily, giving himself more space. 

Pelle seemed to take this as an invitation, moving to settle himself in between Øystein’s legs. He fit between them easily and watched Øystein for a moment. Øystein peered back at him through the darkness, noting how similar and different he looked from Øystein’s usual conquests. 

He was pretty enough in the face and his long hair made him look more like a girl. Øystein had slept with women who were far less pretty and feminine in the face than Pelle was. His body was less impressive. He lacked any soft curves, body flat in some places and bones jutting out in others. Scars littered his body, all of varying depths and shapes. Most were lines, although very shaky ones, all a bit jagged. He looked like a corpse that had risen from the grave, eyes sunken and unfocused. 

It was an odd mixture. He was both beautiful and horrific, and Øystein found himself wishing to stare at him for the rest of the night. 

Pelle distracted him a few seconds later, though. His hand reached back out to Øystein and wrapped around his cock once more, touching bare skin this time. At first, he just focused on the head and spreading the precum that gathered there. Once he seemed satisfied with the slickness on Øystein’s skin, he began stroking. He started slowly at first, although his movements didn’t seem unsure or nervous. 

In fact, he never had seemed unsure or nervous about this in the entire time that Øystein had known him. He wondered if Pelle had experience before him. Surely, he must have. Nobody was that confident without trying it at least a few times. He’d honestly expected Pelle to be a virgin in general and he wasn’t sure the man had ever gone beyond touching, maybe he never had at all before his death. He might have died a virgin in that regard, he considered. 

“Does that feel good?” Pelle asked him. Øystein gave a small nod, but his breathing caught in his throat and his hips jerked when Pelle rubbed a finger over the sensitive head. “You’re still so responsive,” Pelle noted with a smile. Øystein decided to just close his eyes and to try to focus on the pleasure. 

Pelle tried out a few different speeds and levels of tightness before he found one he deemed correct. Occasionally, his hand would twist slightly once he got closer to the head and it made Øystein’s toes curl each time. He lost track of how long things went on like that, finding it easy to lose himself in the feeling and maybe this was exactly what he’d needed. If Pelle was a figment of his own mind, it made sense that he was giving him what he actually needed. 

“You’re warm,” Pelle murmured to him through the darkness. A moment later, Pelle’s free hand reached out to play with his balls. The sudden coldness was a shock to his system and made him squirm, but Pelle’s hand quickly warmed up against him. He wanted to point out he wasn’t actually particularly warm, Pelle had simply always felt like a corpse. He kept the thought to himself. 

“Just keep going,” Øystein encouraged instead. “I’m close,” And that seemed to be enough to distract Pelle, giving him something else to focus on. Both hands applied a bit more pressure and he was unsure of how Pelle was so able to focus his hands on two separate tasks. 

The hand on his balls was a bit uncoordinated at first, but quickly adapted. Both hands moved smoothly over his skin, enhancing the experience. The final straw was when Pelle began messing with his frenulum, thumb rubbing over it with every other stroke. 

It was the most sensitive spot on him and he found himself getting closer. He let out an embarrassing noise that he’d deny making later on, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. All his brain was focused on was making sure the pleasure never stopped until he was done. Luckily, Pelle didn’t make any signs of stopping or even slowing down, moving faster if anything. 

“Fuck,” Øystein whispered out into the darkness, feeling himself being pushed over the edge. At the first realization that Øystein was coming, Pelle slowed his hand down to avoid overstimulating him. It reminded Øystein of just how much Pelle had come to know his body during life. He knew exactly what he needed and when, and gave it to him without even hesitating. 

He stroked him through it, ignoring the mess on his hand. He’d never minded things feeling sticky or gross and Øystein was suddenly grateful for it. His hand only moved away from him once he knew Øystein was completely done, letting go of him carefully. 

Øystein felt boneless as he laid in bed. His body tingled in some places, nerves alive and overwhelmed. He was even more tired than he had been before, feeling as though he’d run a mile. Pelle was quiet as he moved to lay down next to him again and Øystein stuck out one arm easily. 

Pelle laid himself close, resting his head on Øystein’s arm and they were both silent outside of Øystein trying to catch his breath. Øystein was once again struck with the problem of not knowing what to say to Pelle, nothing seemed like the appropriate thing. Instead of risking saying the wrong thing, he chose to say nothing at all. And in the morning, Pelle was gone again.

[lords-of-mayhem]

Can you write Pelle and Øystein story that includes P fucking Ø in Ø's room when Pelle first came to Norway? And Pelle having to gag him so his parents don't hear

Sure thing! I hope you enjoy it <3

Socially Constructed Sabotage

Warnings: Loss of virginity, brief dirty talk, top Pelle, bottom Øystein, barebacking, creampie, fingering, brief rimming, loud sex, gagging, rough sex

Words: 4,386

The first problem Øystein had run into with Pelle was communication. Jan, Jørn, and himself had all assumed that they’d be able to understand Pelle. Their languages were close enough for it to make sense, after all. They’d figured they could at least identify enough words to piece together what he was trying to say and he could do the same for them. The car ride back to Øystein’s home had proved that theory incorrect. 

“Vart är vi på väg?” Pelle asked and Øystein was totally lost, having him repeat himself a couple more times. He went slower each time, but Øystein still couldn’t quite make sense of it. 

“Jeg forstår ikke,” Øystein admitted after a moment, deciding to just tell Pelle that he hadn’t understood any of his words. “Snakker du noe norsk?” He asked, hoping that Pelle spoke more Norwegian than he spoke Swedish, but Pelle only stared back at him. It was clear that he didn’t understand him any better. “Do you speak English?” Øystein finally decided to ask, hoping it would be a good middle ground for them. 

If they couldn’t communicate in English, he genuinely didn’t have any other ideas for how they’d be able to. He couldn’t imagine not being able to talk at all would work out. His heart had begun racing in his chest, hoping bringing Pelle all the way out here wouldn’t be for nothing. He was confused when Pelle began giggling, unsure of what had been so funny. 

“Engelska. Ja,” Pelle agreed finally. “You have a cute accent,” He added in English, words a lot clearer than Øystein had expected them to be. The words themselves made Øystein turn red, caught off guard by the compliment and unused to words like ‘cute’ being used for him. 

That brought about the second problem Øystein had with Pelle. The blonde had a habit of ascribing him various descriptors or names that made his stomach feel weird. The real problem came with the fact he knew why Pelle complimenting him made him feel like that. He’d found Pelle attractive from the moment they’d met and he enjoyed being around him, and all the flirting from the Swedish man made things worse. 

He was very fond of calling Øystein every name he could think of. Cute and adorable were usually the ones he used most often, but he was also partial to using pretty and any variation of calling Øystein small. The latter annoyed Øystein more than the rest did, but that knowledge only seemed to encourage Pelle to continue doing it. He tried to act unphased by it in hopes Pelle would get bored and stop, although that hadn’t worked yet. 

Luckily, Pelle didn’t often comment on his size. Most of the time, he was friendly enough and could even be pretty agreeable. As agreeable as he could be, he was also equally capable of pushing boundaries and trying to force Øystein out of his comfort zone. This often came in the form of physically putting himself in Øystein’s personal space. 

It had started small at first, so small Øystein hadn’t even noticed it right away. There were touches that lingered a bit too long, touching him when it definitely wasn’t necessary to, hands resting on the small of Øystein’s back when he tried to slip by him in the kitchen, Then it progressed to outright groping at Øystein’s sides, finding the soft curves where a bit of baby fat still clung to him and kneading at the skin. 

When Øystein protested, he’d simply laugh at him and squeeze rougher. Øystein knew he could push Pelle away if he needed to, he could likely even fight him off if it came down to it. A part of him had to admit he kind of liked it, though. It was hard to explain, but he liked Pelle’s hands on him and he liked them more when they were handling him so roughly. He’d never been touched like that before, but he could get used to it. 

One such morning, Øystein was trying his best to make breakfast with everyone crowding up the kitchen. Nobody else had left the house yet and he was annoyed when he kept getting bumped into, but he paused when he felt a familiar hand circle around his waist. Pelle squeezed tighter and peered into the pan. 

“Looks good,” He praised in English, giving Øystein a small smile. His parents talked away in the background, but Øystein was solely focused on Pelle and the fact he was not pulling away. Pelle’s voice lowered and he whispered to him in Swedish, something he only did when he was angry or saying something filthy. “Jag önskar att jag kunde ha dig över den här disken,” He began, his tone definitely indicating it was the latter. “ Jag skulle knulla dig tills du grät för mig,” Øystein shivered, being able to identify the word fuck in there somewhere. 

He “accidentally” elbowed Pelle in the ribs, dislodging how close they were. Clearing his throat, he went back to his cooking and tried to stop blushing so brightly. Pelle smirked at him, but left him alone for the time being. Øystein knew this peace wouldn’t last very long. Øystein decided to get ahead of this and confront Pelle about it first, not giving him the opportunity to corner him about it. 

They were both sitting in his room when he decided to bring it up. He was flipping through a magazine, only halfway paying attention to it. He was far more focused on how he was going to handle this. Pelle was sitting at his desk, reading a book and occasionally stopping to jot down notes. Øystein wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he’d learned it was better to just let Pelle do his thing when he wasn’t causing any trouble. 

“Pelle,” Øystein said suddenly, catching the blonde’s attention. “What did you say to me in the kitchen this morning?” He questioned, heart in his throat. He didn’t know where this might lead them and he wasn’t sure if he was more scared or excited to find out, but he was too far gone now. 

“Oh. I told you I’d like to fuck you over the counter until you started to cry for me,” Pelle told him as though he was talking about the weather. Yet another problem with Pelle. He was extremely blunt, either not being aware of social etiquette or simply not caring. It made Øystein shift on the bed, still staring at him. Pelle didn’t glance up from his book and notes very much. 

“Would you mean it?” Øystein asked after a moment of silence between them. His heart thumped faster in his chest, definitely bordering on nervousness more than excitement. “I mean, would you actually do that with me?” He elaborated and this seemed to draw all of Pelle’s attention. He sat his book and notepad down entirely, giving his full focus to Øystein, head tilted curiously at him. 

“I would,” Pelle agreed, not taking much time to consider it. He watched Øystein carefully, reminding the dark haired man of a cat peering over the fields and looking for a mouse. It was a fitting comparison, Øystein felt a bit like prey even while sitting in his own bedroom. “Why? Would you?” His words had an odd inflection on them that Øystein couldn’t quite decipher and that annoyed him. It made him feel as though Pelle had an advantage over him here and truth be told, he likely did. 

Pelle rarely played any games where he did not have an upperhand. He liked racing because he had longer legs, he liked games of wit because he was smart, he did not like games of luck because they were unpredictable and out of his control. And he liked putting Øystein in uncomfortable situations because he was marvelously good at it, and he enjoyed the power of making Øystein squirm around. 

“Maybe,” Øystein said finally. “I don’t know, I can’t be sure. I’ve never been with a man before,” He told him and it was the more tactful, although less divulging truth. He’d experimented in the past with himself, only ever a couple fingers to see what it might be like. Pelle did not need to know that information, he reasoned. 

“I could show you what it’s like if you’d let me,” Pelle offered and Øystein nodded before he could overthink it. He did want Pelle in this way and he knew that, it was just a matter of not letting himself worry too much. Pelle moved almost as soon as Øystein had said yes, seemingly anticipating that he would agree. “I’ve hoped for this since I arrived,” Pelle admitted to him and went to dig through his bag, eventually fishing out what he had been looking for. He showed it to Øystein proudly, showing off a travel-sized bottle of lube that made Øystein’s cheeks warm up. 

It was a bit embarrassing, knowing that Pelle had been hoping to fuck him. Even going so far as to buy the things they would need for it. He wasn’t too surprised, though. He supposed this wasn’t more embarrassing than Pelle whispering filthy words into his ear with his parents mere feet away from them. 

“Do you have a condom?” Øystein asked suddenly, vaguely aware that people were supposed to use those. Even two men. Surprisingly, Pelle laughed at him and gave him a look, eyebrow raised. 

“I won’t get you pregnant,” He assured and Øystein’s cheeks burned harsher at that. He hadn’t been visibly blushing before, but he knew he was now. He looked away from him, borderline sulking, but Pelle didn’t seem to mind it too much. “Take off your clothes,” He ordered bluntly and Øystein nodded.     

When he began taking his clothes off, he was happy to see that Pelle was doing the same. It felt less voyeuristic with him as the center if Pelle was also losing layers at a similar rate. It made him feel more like this was a normal consummation rather than a one-sided, consensual exploitation.     

“I’m worried it will hurt,” Øystein admitted to him after a moment, deciding to be honest. His fingers had been uncomfortable enough and he hadn’t quite seen the appeal of anal sex with himself as the receiving partner, but maybe doing this with Pelle would make it inherently different. He distracted himself by admiring the expanses of pale skin that Pelle stripping down exposed to him. 

Pelle was so thin that his skin looked painted onto his bones, many of them jutting out sharply. He looked more like an exaggerated  illustration of a horror character rather than a real person, reminding Øystein of Dorian Gray’s decrepit and withering body. Yet, there was an odd beauty to his macabre form. Scars littered his body in no real patterns, some intersecting awkwardly. 

“I will do what I can to make it not hurt,” Pelle soothed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not seeming to mind being stared at. Øystein hadn’t fully stripped yet, still wearing his sweater and underwear, and Pelle did not seem to mind this either. “You can take it,” He told him and Øystein raised an eyebrow this time. 

“Most people would say they’d be gentle,” Øystein pointed out. The choice to avoid the words seemed deliberate and knowing Pelle, that was definitely likely. The blonde haired man grinned at him with sharp teeth, once again reminding Øystein of the predator in the grass. He was suddenly much more inclined to believe Pelle had no intentions of being gentle with him. 

“Do you need me to be gentle, Øystein?” Pelle asked in a tone that left Øystein wondering if it was a genuine offer. The blonde crawled onto the bed with him and slid between his thighs, ignoring the fact Øystein was still clothed. He placed himself there like he belonged, spreading his thighs to be the perfect space for him. He didn’t stop until he was pressed as close as he could manage, leaning over his body and trapping him down to the bed. “Does the idea of giving your virginity away frighten you? Do I need to be soft and sweet while I take it?” 

Øystein still couldn’t determine if Pelle was being serious, but he could determine his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Pelle was so close to him, whispering things more sensual than he’d ever been told before. Pelle watched him with intent eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips when Øystein finally shook his head, telling him he didn’t need to be soft and sweet with him. 

“Then I won’t be, but you can take it. I’ll make sure you can,” Pelle assured him once he pulled away from the kiss. This time, Øystein nodded in agreement. He could take it. “Finish taking your clothes off for me. Then get on your hands and knees,” Pelle guided and leaned himself away enough to give Øystein the space to do so. 

It was obvious Øystein was more insecure about being nude in front of someone else, though it was unclear how much came from inexperience. Still, Øystein followed the instructions given and shivered when the air hit all of his bare skin, highly aware of the differences between their bodies. His skin was unmarred by scars, though he did have areas of acne in some spots and a few stretch marks that had turned white, but not yet disappeared. Pelle had already felt the curves of his hips, one thing Øystein was most self-conscious of, yet he had not seemed to mind them. If anything, it was quite the opposite. 

Øystein felt awkward as he turned himself over onto his hands and knees, knocking into Pelle by accident at one point. It was a bit difficult to find a comfortable position, but two hands found his hips and guided him around until he was as settled as he would ever be. 

The position was not like anything he’d experienced before, exposing him in a totally new way and letting some of his most sensitive spots be seen. He felt shame wash over him, ass in the air like a bitch in heat. Pelle settled in behind him and cold hands found his ass, spreading him open even more. He barely resisted the urge to try and close his legs, but he knew they’d just be forced back open anyway. 

“Perfect. I knew you’d be gorgeous like this,” Pelle praised and Øystein was grateful for this position because it meant Pelle couldn’t see the way Øystein’s face turned a light pink at the comment. “I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked. You’re certainly made for it,” He tacked on and shifted around a bit, hands changing position on his skin. Øystein wasn’t sure what was happening until he felt the first warm, wet press of Pelle’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Øystein hissed out through his teeth, surprised by the sudden contact. Yet again, he found himself thinking about how different things would be if Pelle was a normal lover. Anyone else would warn him before doing such a thing, likely would even ask his permission. But he found himself preferring Pelle’s methods, it was simply shocking. Nobody else had ever even touched him there, let alone like this. 

He’d heard about people doing this before, only ever whispered recounts of perverse things. The only tales he’d heard of it had come from someone who knew someone who had slept with some deviant who had licked them there. Now, he was that someone that someone knew and it was more unbelievable than he ever could have imagined. 

Pelle licked over every inch of his skin there, moving in steady up and down motions before switching them to left and right. Øystein would squirm every time he hit a particularly sensitive nerve, but he didn’t start fully reacting until Pelle stiffened his tongue just a tad and pressed it inside. It obviously didn’t go in as deeply as a finger or a cock might, but it felt even better than his fingers had. 

It was hot and slick enough to glide easily, none of the awkward harsh pressing he’d had to do to get his fingers inside. Pelle moved his tongue in ways Øystein didn’t even know was possible and it earned a moan that was far too loud. His nerves there were sensitive, but not in the way they had been once he’d finally withdrawn his fingers. This sensitivity didn’t make it painful, it didn't leave him red and sore. 

He barely even registered it when one of Pelle’s fingers slipped inside of him. It was a completely different experience than it had been with his own fingers. Pelle’s were very slick and went in easily, finding a more comfortable angle and sinking deeper. It moved and wiggled comfortably, encouraging his insides to part rather than forcing them to. All of a sudden, Pelle’s finger pressed differently and it felt as though Øystein had been electrocuted. 

He let out a high-pitched sound he would deny if Pelle ever brought it up. He wasn’t sure what had happened to himself, but he knew he wanted more of it. His body froze when he heard the television downstairs turn to silent and he knew his parents were listening for more of a disturbance, trying to see if something was happening that they needed to worry over. 

“Be quiet,” Pelle laughed as he pulled his mouth away from Øystein’s body. He kept moving his finger, adding a second one now and avoiding the spot that had made Øystein react so harshly. It was torturous, but Øystein was grateful for it. He doubted he could keep quiet well enough if Pelle hadn’t purposefully gone easier on him. “Don’t want them to hear, do you?” He asked and stretched Øystein out carefully. 

Luckily, the sounds of the television resumed a bit later, his parents seemingly satisfied that nothing was amiss. Pelle slid his fingers back against that spot almost as soon as the sounds had continued and Øystein bit his lip so hard it nearly bled to try to stay quiet. His thighs squirmed, but there was nowhere for him to escape to. His cock was fully hard by now and leaking against the bed, and he dreaded having to wash his own sheets tomorrow. 

“Does it feel good, liten kråka?” Pelle asked and Øystein could identify these words. They were close enough to his own and he wasn’t sure how he felt about being called a little crow, but his mind was focused elsewhere. He nodded because he didn’t trust his own voice now. “It’ll feel even better when it’s me fucking into you instead,” He added another finger and Øystein had a feeling this would be the last one he used. 

It was already more than Øystein had tried on himself, although he was beginning to wonder if he’d done something wrong. Fingering himself had not felt anything like this. Pelle stretched him slow and deep, letting this finger stay inside of him for less time than the others. Perhaps Pelle himself was growing impatient, that thought made Øystein smile. His insides clenched when Pelle’s fingers were removed, already feeling empty and longing for something to replace them. He knew something would. 

“Be quiet for me now. Once I start, I’m not stopping. I don’t care if they do hear,” Pelle warned and a person less experienced with him might call his bluff, but Øystein knew better. He knew Pelle would likely keep fucking him even if his parents were knocking on the door. Øystein pressed his arm beneath his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, letting out a small noise when he felt Pelle pressing against him. 

His cock felt a lot bigger than his fingers, the blunt head warm as it lined up. The push inside stretched him open a bit, but it was nothing like the pain he imagined he would feel. It burned slightly and the feeling was a little uncomfortable, mostly due to his body never experiencing anything like it. He’d never been so full before and now, it felt as though his organs might not even have enough room. 

��ystein breathed out a shaky whine, only stopping when Pelle was all the way inside. It was hard to get enough air into his lungs, feeling so overwhelmed by this. He considered the fact he was no longer a virgin for a moment and wondered if he should mourn the social concept. If he should care that he had given something “special” over to Pelle so easily. Before he could consider the impact of it too much, Pelle was beginning to pull out and press back inside in long movements. 

They were slow, deep thrusts that still allowed Øystein to get used to the feeling. Although, he was growing desperate and perhaps felt like he needed to prove something. He pulled his face free from his arms just enough to speak, trying to compose himself a bit. 

“Don’t hold back,” He encouraged and he could hear Pelle chuckling behind him. It was a sweeter noise, endeared and amused. Pelle’s body leaned in an awkward way, too long arms reaching down beside the bed and grabbing something. “What are you doing?” Øystein asked skeptically when he saw Pelle had grabbed his underwear off the floor, unsure of what was happening. 

“There’s no way you’re going to stay quiet,” Pelle told him and Øystein’s brain was going into overdrive. There was no possible way he was suggesting what Øystein thought he was, but the underwear was pressed in front of his face before he could protest. “Open,” He instructed, his words were even and didn’t leave any room to argue. So, Øystein didn’t. It was embarrassing, more embarrassing than anything else he’d ever done, but he opened his mouth and let Pelle press his own underwear into his mouth. 

He shoved the fabric deep, prodding with his fingers until it would be difficult to spit it out without the use of his hands. It nearly gagged Øystein, but he did his best to avoid that from happening. His teeth clenched around the fabric when Pelle began moving his hips once again. 

This time, Pelle didn’t hold back. He gave Øystein exactly what he’d asked for, gradually building the pace up and teasing him for just a moment. His hands wrapped tightly around Øystein’s hips, threatening to leave bruises along his delicate skin. It felt primal and desperate, and the makeshift gag only added to that feeling. As Pelle had anticipated, Øystein couldn’t help moaning the second Pelle truly started fucking into him. Although, he was definitely making more noise now than he would have before. 

He felt more comfortable making sounds now that he knew they’d be muffled. There was also the fact that it just felt so overwhelming for him, new and exciting. Pelle felt like he was pressing deep into Øystein’s stomach with every thrust, making Øystein’s body feel hot and tight. His teeth clenched down even tighter when Pelle’s angle changed and he was pushing against that spot from earlier. 

Øystein would have to have Pelle show him what was making him feel that way later, so he could find it on his own. Although, a major part of Øystein hoped that Pelle could do this for him again. Pelle was mostly quiet behind him, although he didn’t occasionally let out a moan or a shakier breath. His sounds were drowned out by Øystein’s own noises, but he still sounded perfect. 

“I want you to come for me,” Pelle whispered out, close to Øystein’s ear and making him shiver. He nodded the best he could and thought for a moment that Pelle wanted him to do it without being touched. A hand pressed down beneath Øystein’s body and wrapped around his cock a few seconds later, though. 

Pelle’s hands were soft and long, surprisingly talented as he touched Øystein. He wondered just how much experience Pelle had, but he was grateful for whatever had gotten him so skilled at this. Øystein let out a noise close to a wail and Pelle briefly worried that Øystein’s parents might hear him even through the gag, but as he warned earlier, he didn’t care enough to stop or slow down. He had a feeling that Øystein didn’t want him to either. 

Øystein fought to breathe through the gag and the noises that kept tearing their way from his chest, almost impossible to get a full breath in. His toes curled hard enough to cramp up, but he was pushed over the edge a moment later and pleasure overtook the pain. Pelle stroked him through it until it hurt before letting go of his cock, not stopping his own thrusts. 

Pelle panted like an animal against his ear as he got closer to the edge. It didn’t take much longer before he came too, spilling deep inside of Øystein and continued fucking it deeper into him. His thrusts slowed finally, after what had seemed like hours, and his breathing was still ragged. He was surprisingly aware, clean hand moving to pull the gag out of Øystein’s mouth. As he did, he heard Øystein choke on his own saliva and cough wetly for a few moments. 

“Are you okay?” Pelle asked and Øystein nodded, regaining his composure as his coughing fit died down. Long, clean fingers pressed into the back of Øystein’s hair, close to the roots at the top of his head. He wasn’t sure what Pelle was doing, but he mostly ignored it. His body was overwhelmed and Pelle was prone to doing odd things that Øystein didn’t quite understand. It was best to let it be. Shortly after, Pelle made a curious noise. 

“Øystein?” He hummed out and he could hear the grin in Pelle’s voice. He made a noise of acknowledgement. “You never told me you were a blonde,” And just like that, Pelle was once again back to his annoying self and he earned an elbow to the side for it. Although, it barely landed due to the angle and Pelle simply laughed at his efforts.

[ferxisakasuna]

[nom-nommmm1]

TRICKSTER - DEAD/PELLE

Content Warning !!: You and Pelle showering together, softdom!Pelle x fem!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v

I was sitting on the couch watching a movie when I heard Dead yell through the bathroom door. “Y/n?! Could you get me a towel?” He asked peaking his head through the door. “Yea one sec!” I yell back, pausing my movie and picking up a towel that was in a laundry basket and knocking on the bathroom door. “It’s unlocked!” Dead yells I open the door and Dead says “could you hand it to me?” I look a little confused but go along with it and hand it to him. Swish I drop the towel being pulled into the shower by his arms. I yelp as I feel the ice cold water hit my skin, Dead always took freezing showers.

“Pelle!” I gasp hitting his arm. I’m soaked and fully clothed. “Yes babe?” Dead asks innocently, connecting our noses. “Baby! Look at me I’m soaked!” I say shivering Dead chuckles. “You look good” his eyes scan my body, looking at my now see-through white shirt. I cover my body with my arms. “You’re not funny Pelle” I say trying to get out but he stops me, embracing me in a hug. “Please stay in here with me baby? It’s lonely in here without my sweetheart” he asks, laying his head in the crook of my neck giving me small tender kisses.

I sigh. “Ugh you’re so clingy, I guessss I can stay” Dead’s eyes light up as I say that. “Thank you baby!” He smiles again, kissing me softly but with a bit of firmness. Pelle slowly wraps his hands around my neck, pushing me to kiss him harder. I groan into the kiss making Dead chuckle. “Easy babe” he teases starting to play with the hem of my shirt.

“Is it okay if I take these off?” He asks referring to my clothes. The reality of the situation suddenly kicks in and I blush. I’m in the shower with my naked boyfriend. “Sweetheart?” Dead says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I nod reassuring him. Dead starts to slowly take off my top.

Once my top is off he begins to kneed my breasts. I gasp quietly. “Is this okay?” He asks looking down at me. I nod eagerly and he stops. “I need words for me to keep going my love” he says. I whine looking at him, just staring made me weak in the knees as I tried to form a sentence. “P-please?” I ask a little embarrassed. Pelle chuckles as he suddenly picks me up, making me straddle his hips as he held my ass and thighs.

I gasp feeling his firm grip on my ass. Dead chuckles again and pulls me into a deep kiss. His wet hair starting to stick to my chest and face. He stopped kissing me looking in my eyes as he slowly removed my shorts. “Are you sure?” He asks looking at me with a serious but loving glare. “Yes” I say simply, that being the only word to come out of my clouded mind. Dead takes my shorts off all the way, throwing them out of the tub. I giggle as he slides his tongue into my mouth.

Dead deepens the kiss, pressing his body against mine creating any sort of friction he can have. He moves his lips to my chin, slowly moving to my collarbone, sucking on the salty skin. I cry out a moan. Pelle starts to suck harder moving his mouth to my chest kissing down it. He then takes one of my boobs into his mouth the other in his hand. He gently starts to suck on my nipple. He moves his free hand all over my body, giving me a few love taps as he does so.

Dead moans, seeing me above him. It’s almost intoxicating to him seeing me this torn up in his touch. I move my hands along Dead’s soaked hair, smoothing it down. Pelle takes his mouth off my chest to look up at me as his grip around my hips tighten, making me firm up my legs around his waist. I look down at him, moving his hair behind his ear as I see his cheeks light up a rosy color.

Pelle repositions me, putting my slit on his bulge. “Is it okay if we go further this time?” He asks, watching me closely. I yelp, feeling his bulge pulsing. He chuckles a little as he hears me. I nod my head to tell him to go and he slowly starts to push his long lengthy fingers into me. I moan as I feel him circle my clit with his thumb.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Dead asks again, looking at me with gentleness. “I’m sure babe, I’m ready” I reply looking into his eyes as he pushes a finger into me again. And I whine for him to go faster and he corporates. My nails dig into his shoulders as he fingers me. Pelle moans as he feels the sting of my nails.

I bring him in a passionate kiss that soon turns into a make out session. Non stop moaning in each others mouths. As I’m about to cum Pelle pulls his fingers out of me. “Hey-“ I whimper. “Not just yet sweetheart, I know” he says pulling me closer to him. Pelle then grabs his member, teasing me with it.

I whine again.”Pelle!” he chuckles. “I’m sorry sweetheart, you are just so fun to play with” I blush as I feel Dead’s grip on my hips tighten. Dead repositioned me so I am comfortably straddling his waist. He looks at me for a moment before pushing his length into me. “Oh Pelle-“ I scream out, but he pulls out and covers my mouth with his free hand. “Cmon now darling, be quiet you don’t want Euro to hears us, do you?” He asks still keeping a firm hand on my mouth.

I shake my head no. “You promise to be quiet?” He asks a little teasingly. “Mhm mhm” I mutter in his hand whilst nodding. “Ok, I’m gonna take my hand off, be quiet” he warns as he slowly take his hand off. Pelle looks between us for a moment, our skin fully touching. We’ve never been this intimate and I could tell, Pelle was loving it.

After a little while of admiring me Dead came back to his senses. He pulled me close again and started to kiss me all over. “Do you know how much I love you?” He asks looking up at me still kissing my stomach. I giggle. “Hm, no why don’t you show me?” I smirk making Dead blush. “Oh really? M’kay” he says as he comes up to my level.

Pelle then slaps my ass making me squeal a little. “Be quiet babeee” he teased. Without warning Dead sticks his erection into me. I burry my face in his shoulder trying to muffle my moans. He then starts to pound into me without hesitation, bucking his hips into mine. I grip Pelles waist, thinking I’ll fall if I don’t.

He then starts to massage my clit as he pounds into me. The sensations start to take over me and I can feel them more than ever before. “Baby- I think I’m gonna-“ my orgasm cutting me off mid sentence.” “oh- mm” Dead whimpers as he feels my hot cum inside of him. He then pulls out and reaches his climax. He cums on my stomach. All of his liquids pouring down. “God you look so cute” he says before pulling me into a tender kiss. Dead moves me to the shower head, the freezing water I had forgotten about hitting me again, making me squeal.

“You couldn’t at least have turned the water up?!” I gasp as Pelle giggles. “Sorry baby, I had to get you clean” he says grabbing the soap and scrubbing me down thoroughly, inspecting my body whilst he scrubs. He then grabs my favorite shampoo. He rubs it in my scalp making me close my eyes in relaxation. He rinses me off and finishes up my conditioner. “You are just so perfect” he mumbles as he finishes ringing me off one last time. I open my eyes. “Nah that’s you babe” I say smiling with half lidded eyes.

We get out of the shower and dry off, putting on our matching pajamas. Pelle carries me to his room. “God what were you fucks doing in there” Euronymous says as he runs to the bathroom to pee. I blush a little embarrassed. Dead sets me on his bed and puts on a movie. He then lays on my stomach pretending to be well, dead. I play with his blonde locks as he drifts off to sleep. “Goodnight Dead” I say kissing the top of his head and drifting off to sleep myself.

A/n:hihihi this was my first ever smut, I hope you enjoyed bc I did and I kind gave up half way 😭 I hope you can’t notice it buttt yea that’s all. Enjoy!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

can i request a dead x reader x euronymous fic where the reader has a solo project of her own it comes out to the public that she’s dating both dead AND euronymous?? pls and thank you

Dating the devils

warning : drinking, mentioning of smoking and drugs, smutish (making out), implied threesome

Info : Thanks for the request anon and your formal words ;) Have fun reading and everyone else too.

masterlist

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

Breaking News: The Swedish celebrity "Dark Lilith" the solo artist and also necomer to the black metal scene was seen performing a satanic ritual in the cemetery last night, apparently trying to summon demons, two figures were seen walking into the night-" the TV was switched off and a sigh came over her lips, her eyes rimmed with dark make-up showing annoyance and yet a little amusement.

She held a bottle of beer in one hand and her guitar in the other. The dark material shone slightly in the dim light in the anteroom. Outside, she could already hear the audience waiting for her.

Thanks Satan that I'm here but the report is unnecessary shit she thought and took the last sip of her beer. She liked it when people reported on her and yet she could do without false statements.

Two unnamed people. She knew for sure that it was neither a ritual of shame nor two unknowns. Her lovers and sex on the farm were more likely to be asked. But every interviewer had either fled or refused.

It was true that she was female, a witch, Lilith, and perhaps went a little too far. But she was a part of the scene, of the time, and in that time from her beginnings to her rise she had gotten to know them.

Her two dead ones, her loved ones, it was romantic. Euronymous always gave her song lyrics and gestures in the form of kisses and instruments. Dead, on the other hand, often drew her things and wanted her to kill him.

Things that flattered her, but she also knew that if it came out that she was the biggest solo maker in such a scene, dating the two men from Mayhem would be hell. Everywhere. ,,The Christians and fans are coming for me," she muttered, plucking at the side of her guitar before throwing the bottle into a garbage can, hearing the rumble and clink before she stood up and knew it was time.

The stage was her home. Her fans were her worshippers and her voice was the magic. Looking into the crowd, she saw the many dark shapes, the make-up of the women looking up at her and the blood on them. It was perfect.

And when her eyes fell on the group, she saw the black-haired and the blonde. She winked at them and saw that they knew she meant them. Felt the beating of her heart as she started to play and the guitar joined in. It was another concert of life, it was everything.

The walls shook, the crowd went wild, her voice screamed into the microphone and everything was fucking perfect. It was a bloody night, there was alcohol involved, some drugs and Satan himself.

It was all perfect and as the dark curtain closed and she retreated she heard the voices of the group. ,,You played perfectly!" she heard Euronymous shout as he pulled her close and gave her a deep kiss.

,,Really good...almost deadly," quipped Dead and she saw the hint of a smile on his lips, a gesture she knew she didn't see often and yet she was grateful that they were happy. But the rest of the black circle also congratulated them on another successful concert.

They all grabbed a beer and a cigarette before retiring to the anteroom to have a little celebration of their own and make it all the better. Euronymous always had his hand by her side always had his lips on her body wanting more of her whether in front of the others or not.

Dead watched her, every now and then he would say and show her something and gently stroke her hand, enjoying feeling the bones underneath. They both loved her in a way that was indescribable. And at the latest when the cold night air hit her body, she was snapped back to reality.

,,The afterparty is long over, but here... it's cozy, isn't it?" she heard the voice of the band founder as he stood next to her, entangling her in a kiss and only making her mind even more clouded by alcohol and drugs.

,,Supper cozy-fuck," she mumbled and leaned into him wanting more of him wanting more of them both no matter if it was in a side alley next to the hall. It didn't matter, it was the only thing she needed to get down. ,,Warm...soft," she heard Dead murmur as he knelt in front of her and kissed his way up her legs.

His cold lips almost as cold as a corpse, his pale pale in the moonlight as he ran his knife over her skin while Euronymous used his hand to start massaging her breasts. She wore no tights, just the black top and the short leather skirt.

The warmth she gave him was the only thing the blonde needed to live. He needed her to stay here and Euronymous needed her to keep going. And she needed them both to feel fucking good.

It was a moment between them that would lead to a promising night. If all three of them didn't pause when they heard the clicking sound. ,,What the fuck?" she mumbled, coming back to the now lost to the two of them and looking into the surprised face of a reporter.

,,You're dead!" Euronymous hissed and took out his taser, which flashed through the dead end. ,,Death," Dead muttered, gripping the knife in his hand tighter before the two ran towards the reporter. As he ran screaming for his life, their laughter could be heard. It was satanically good, it was hellishly ampsant for her.

It only got better when she saw her picture on the title page the next day. ,,Fuck look at you so pretty," Euronymous said and Dead nodded in agreement. ,,An album cover...for Lilith," the blonde said and began to draw inspiration.

The picture showed her leaning against the brick wall, her eyes closed with lust, Euronymous at her side, his hand under her top as he kissed her neck.

Dead kneeling in front of her with the knife running over her skin as he kissed his way up her legs to her center. ,,A fucking good picture...I think we should have done this sooner," she muttered, picking up the newspaper before cutting out the article and nailing it to the wall with a knife. It was a fucking satanic masterpiece.

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

@mayhem-things , @icarus-star

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I know you wrote for Kappa/Euro. Hear me out.. could you write for Euro/Dead from lords of chaos? No one writes for jack kilmer and it drives me insane‼️😭

Pure Fucking Armaggedon

Summary: In the midst of a heavy night of partying with the Black Circle, you crave your boyfriend's attention but just like so often lately, he's very much not interested, leading you to meet your needs somewhere else…

Pairing: Dead x fem!Reader x Euronymous

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Talk About Depression/Mental Illness, Talk About Self-Harm, Very Angsty, Hurt/Comfort...ish, Alcohol, Smoking, Cheating…But With A Twist, Fingering, Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: Hi, anonnie! Thank you very much for this ask <3 Before everybody jumps into my inbox about Jack Kilmer: Please don’t, okay? He’s not tickling my brain like Rory does and I’d hate to let y’all down by having requests sitting in my inbox collecting dust 🖤 However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun writing this chaos!

Massive thanks to @spookyorchid for endlessly entertaining my rambles and inspiring me!

Disclaimer: This is solely based on the characters depicted in Lords Of Chaos!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

Could you stomach it anymore

Could you stand to be a breath away

Can you feel the way your face distorts

Did you think that it could be this way

- Stomach It By Crywolf

Your upper lip twitched a little as your gaze darted right into your boyfriend's chestnut-coloured eyes. In a rather stark contrast to yours, Pelle's expression was indifferent whilst he stared back at you, face smeared with a now gray amalgamation of once black and white corpse paint.

"Sorry…" He muttered, his voice lacking the depth and sympathy to really sell his point.

"No…it's, it's okay, really. It makes no sense to pressure yourself when you're not in the mood, no." You shrugged your shoulders at him, very much meaning what you said whilst you still felt that massive rock of repeated disappointment settling down in your stomach.

"I'm gonna go grab another beer then…can I get you something?" Pelle shook his head lightly.

"No, but thanks. I think I should just go to sleep now." The Swede with the long blonde hair allowed himself to slump deeper down into the old, worn out sofa, crossing his arms in front of his chest and with that not just verbally but also physically blocking you out.

"Nighty then…" You mumbled, turning away from your boyfriend to hide just how hard you fought to keep your composure.

Neither the heavy leather jacket, the edgy metal studs and spikes all over nor your trusty Darkthrone shirt hugging your torso were able to shield you from the emotional hurt raging inside of you. It's been months since Pelle last touched or so much as kissed you on the mouth. You knew just fine that something wasn't alright with him, that he was going through an episode again and the last thing you intended on doing was putting any blame for that on him but fuck was it challenging you this time. It didn't go past you how the I love you's had become more and more scarce, how he turned his back to you at night whilst you stared at the ceiling hoping for the oncoming episode to wash over him in a few, swift weeks but his current black hole of depression was unlike anything before. You hardly recognised your boyfriend anymore and felt like nothing but an accessory to the whole band persona he'd put up to cover up how much he was actually hurting on the inside.

To not come off as a soft, little crybaby to everybody else, you stifled your breath and wiped the emerging gush of tears from your lower lash line as fast as you could before making your way out to the densely crowded yard again. Empty bottles of beer lined the way whilst partially smoked-up cigarettes laid scattered all over, the heavy smell of a raging bonfire filled the crisp night breeze. Whilst almost violently looking to the ground to avoid anybody seeing you being about to burst into tears, you rushed to one of the cooling boxes to grab a beer or preferably something stronger. A sense of recklessness washed through you as you dug a deeply green, still halfway full glass bottle from the cooler. Jägermeister would serve you just fine right now.

Armed with the strong booze, you went right back into the house, hiding yourself away from all the action to simply get drunk in peace and solitude.

"Ugh…" Your whole body quivered as the herbal liquor shot down your throat, drenching your mouth in its bitter taste.

Right after the sensation eased up a little, you chased the first swig with a second, deeper one, the alcohol burning its way through your stomach before you'd even reached the corner of the house that could be described as a guest room to slump down on an array of dusty mattresses. With the intense warmth of heavy liquor washing through your body, you curled yourself up, shoving an old pillow underneath your head and before you really realized it, vagrant, quiet tears trickled from the corners of your eyes, pooling at the tear duct to eventually swap over the bridge of your nose. If you were honest with yourself, you felt sick of it, sick of being ignored and pushed away but at the same time you just couldn't bring yourself to point the finger at Per. He simply didn't choose this way of being and feeling yet it felt like he wasn't even trying anymore…which, again, would just be another symptom. You sighed in defeat before treating yourself to another numbing mouthful of booze.

Allowing the tears to just run down your face at their very own pace, you simply wanted to get drunk as fast as possible but even that wouldn't be granted to you, a gentle knock on the slightly ajar door pulling you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You muttered, sitting up straight again and wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

"Hey…are you okay?" The familiar voice belonging to Øystein asked.

His head peaked through the open door, a messy bunch of black hair framing his face in wavy strands.

"Saw you rushing through the yard and thought checking up on you wouldn't hurt…" He slid his lean statue through the small opening, stepping towards you before crouching down to meet your gaze.

"See? That's part of the problem…you, you care and Pelle just…he just sits there." The words blubbered out of you in an uncontrolled rush accompanied by a new surge of hot tears.

"Hey now…", Euronymous quickly sat down, tucking the frizzy hair behind his ears, "What's going on, hm?"

"I'm so sick of this shit, Øystein… I can't help him, I can't fix him and he just pushes me away time and time again. I'm so done with this bullshit." It practically gushed out of your mouth in a poorly choked-back wail.

"There's a whole horde of people out there, Euro, yet I feel so terribly fucking lonely all the time. Everybody's cheering for Mayhem and for Dead, going on about how fucking cool and true he is for what he's doing to himself on stage but you know what?", You tried to stifle your shaky breaths, "It's not cool. None of it. It's actually fucking terrifying…and it's me who's got to stitch him back to gether every damn time."

With every one of your words, Øystein's eyes widened a little more, partly in understanding about just how much his friend was dragging you through but also in plain sympathy for you.

"Come'ere, yeah? C'mon…if it helps you can squeeze me as hard as you want to, okay?" Euronymous spread both his arms, inviting you in for a tight hug.

Not wasting a second thought on it, you leaned in, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders to squeeze and press as tightly as you could.

"There you go…that's it, right there." Euronymous encouraged you, the palms of his broad hands resting at the back of your head to soothe you with gentle pets and strokes.

"I wish I could help you but none of us really gets through to him anymore…I'm so sorry." Øystein sighed into the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose almost touching the cold, black leather of your jacket.

"I don't even know what's going on with him anymore. Everything is just so terribly wrong and I don't know how much longer I can do this shit, Euro, I really don't." You sniffled, inevitably having the vastly different scent of Euronymous right in front of you sneaking up into your nostrils.

Unlike Pelle, he smelled like stale cigarette smoke, cheap aftershave and beer…maybe not exactly a crowd pleaser but you found comfort in it.

"It's okay. I don't judge you." He whispered to you in a soft tone and it threatened to break you apart from the inside.

"Thank you…", You croaked into his hair, your voice getting weaker with every letter, "I feel so shitty for thinking about it like that but…but I'm so goddamn tired. I-...I just wanna feel loved again."

"To remind you…there's a whole horde of people out there who love you." He tried to cheer you up but ultimately missed the point.

"Not…not like that. Ugh, I sound stupid…" You felt the need to take the words straight back and to just go with Øystein's attempt of calming you.

"No, you don't, seriously.", Euronymous led his fingers to get lost in your hair, fingertips softly stroking across your scalp down to the nape of your neck, "I can't imagine how you came up with enough energy to stay this long in the first place. We both know it's not his fault, neither is it yours or mine but we've all been watching you breaking away because of him. You're not smiling anymore, not screaming your lungs out at the gigs, you're barely even here anymore…he's eating you up."

"I can't just leave, Øystein…" You gradually loosened your death grip around his torso to lean back, your face wet with slowly subsiding tears.

"I know…all I'm saying is that it might be time to think about yourself a little more. It won't help anybody if you get lost in his chaos, too." Before you could raise your own hand to wipe the sleeve of your jacket across your face, Euronymous was already on it, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Whilst taking a deep breath to steady yourself a bit more, the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. You followed how he slightly grinded his teeth together, jaws clenching, withholding something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Øystein?" You furrowed your brows a little, the feeling of something being violently off ebbing through your chest.

"I'm sorry…" That's all he offered to you before cupping your face with the full length of his palm and leaning in to press an anything but timid kiss to your trembling lips.

A part of you, the voice of reason within, practically screamed at you to pull away, to scurry back and to let this go down as nothing but an awkward, boozy, little slip-up, but you didn't move by just an inch as the pungent taste of smoked cigarettes and cheap beer swept into your mouth alongside Euronymous' daring tongue. You simply let it happen, allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and intoxicate you with the dangerously addictive feeling of being wanted, desired by someone.

"Fuck…" You groaned into the nearly bruising kiss, hands reaching out to claw at his utterly worn out Venom shirt to pull him closer to you.

Catching the notion that he had dared to make the right move at the right time, Øystein's palm left your face, both hands roaming over your back down to your ass to simply scoop you into his lap, your legs wrapping themselves around the cold of his bullet-shell belt as the hem of your washed-out, gray denim skirt rode up generously over your fishnet-stocking covered thighs.

"I got you…just hold on to me." Euronymous muttered, trying to catch his breath a little whilst his fingers dug themselves into the curve of your behind, causing you to whine out as you arched your hips impossibly close towards his crotch.

The aching need to feel just something again practically pulsed through every nerve ending and every muscle, pulling you into his tight grasp and for your hands to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, skin against skin leaving you to crave more. Whilst one of his hands left it's place cupping your ass to hurry down between your bodies, awkwardly fumbling with the buckle of his belt before almost violently pulling down the zipper, a short but heavy pang of guilt jolted through your ribcage, nearly causing you to flinch on the spot. Nothing about this situation at hand was right or somehow, in some crooked way, justifiable to you and yet you made not a single move to stop any of it from happening. You didn’t grasp for Øystein's hand as it hushed from his unzipped pants amidst your legs, the sound of your tights tearing and ripping thundering in your ears, right before curious fingertips brushed over thin lace panties, no. The only reaction it pulled from your body was a needy moan.

"Right there, yeah?" You heard the smirk in his tone without even needing to see it.

Nodding softly, you placed your mouth back onto his, teeth teasingly grazing over his bottom lip.

"Bet that feels even better, babe." At first you didn't know what struck you harder, the endearing pet name or Euronymous' fingers snaking past your slip, dipping right into your soaked folds to draw achingly slow circles around your entrance.

"Please…" You hummed into the kiss, your forehead leaning against his.

"Please, what?", He inquired, fingertips prodding and nudging against your cunt, "Want me to fill you up, no? Such a greedy little thing."

You choked back a whine as Øystein withdrew his hand from your slip to shove the fabric to the side, fingers freeing his rock-hard cock from the confines of his shorts right before thrusting into you with a precise rock of his hips against yours.

"Oh, fuck…" Your moan got lost in his mouth, the delicious feeling of being stretched out so harshly rippling through you.

"How long has it been, huh?" He pushed, drilling himself into you until it threatened to hurt.

"I dunno…four months, maybe five." You couldn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut, the burning heat of arousal and shame creeping into your face in equal parts.

"Yeesh, couldn't leave a girl like you untouched for that long." Euronymous huffed, his other hand steadying your posture with his palm flat against your back as he started rolling his hips, practically bouncing you on his cock.

With your entire body flush with the sensation of Øystein spearheading into you in a firm pace, the last bit of your coherent brain busy muffling and holding back desperate mewls and whimpers, you rendered completely oblivious to what was happening around you…unlike the black-haired guitarist. From the very corner of his eyes, Øystein's attention got pulled towards the semi-open door, the old, wooden floor in front of it creaking treacherously. Just by the way a well familiar pair of thoroughly worn out combat boots barely peaked across the lines of the door frame, he knew that the both of you had been caught right in the act but he didn't so much as even bother to stop from guiding you up and down his throbbing hard on.

"You at least got yourself off here and there, no?" You shook your head.

"Didn't feel right. I- I just hoped things would get back to normal…" You groaned, the sensation of Euronymous' cock stroking over that extra sensitive spot inside of you sending cold, little shivers down your spine.

"Oh, love, then I better make sure to give it to you better than Per ever could…lazy fucker." Øystein scoffed more to his friend and singer hiding next to the door frame than to you but you didn't take any notice of that, your senses way too busy with just keeping it together.

For a moment, Øystein felt actual and very real rage gushing through him. Anger towards his friend for being such an oblivious prick regarding the suffering and all-round neglect he was dragging you through. It was a terribly self-righteous emotion, that he knew for sure, however, he couldn't help himself but to let it fuel the way he rutted into you, burying himself as deep as possible inside of your wet pussy.

The rather morbid thing both of you failed to take notice of was what Dead was doing hidden away in the shadows of the hallway, the crushing humiliation not only going straight to his heart but to his awfully throbbing cock as well, the bitter-sweet masochistic rush leading him to palm himself through his trousers whilst biting down on his fist to not let just one singular sound escape from his twitching lips. The Swede was shamelessly jerking himself off to you getting railed by his closest friend.

"Gonna take good care of you, babe." Øystein groaned in a lust-riddled tone, both of his hands now closing down around your hips to hammer your form onto his cock with every jut and snap of his hips.

It had you bashfully nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the cigarette smoke soaked leather of his jacked cold against your cheek, whilst you still clawed at his sides underneath his shirt.

Your fingers dug into his skin as you felt your walls starting to flutter and contract around Øystein's hard on, the first crushing jolts of your pent-up orgasm rippling through your body, senses being sent into blissful overdrive.

"Good girl…fuck, pulling me in so hard now, huh?" Euronymous' voice cracked and eventually faltered just like the rolls of his lap against yours.

"Issok…", He talked you through your release, shoving himself balls deep into your spasming cunt before flooding your insides with white-hot ropes of his seed, a guttural groan ripping itself free from the depths of his lungs, "Just let yourself go. I gotchu."

The earth-shattering sensation of all the pent-up sexual desperation mixed in with shame and crushing guilt washing through your system had you biting down on his leather-clad shoulder, a fresh surge of tears threatening to swap over your lower lash line at any second.

"Aw, shit." A sore croak from outside the room led both of you to turn your heads so suddenly that it nearly gave you whiplash.

"The fuck?!" You shrieked out, practically jumping from Øystein's lap whilst he was equally busy with tucking himself back in and getting off the mattress.

"I got this!" Euronymous tried to calm you, awkwardly stumbling away from you before tearing the door open and vanishing into the dark hallway.

For a split second your overworked synapses tried to get a vague grasp on what was going down. Feet were hammering down stairs, noisy commotion erupted from inside the house before the sound of shattering glass and incomprehensible screaming and shouting filled the yard.

"Oh fuck no…" You huffed under your breath, wobbly legs nearly giving out as you tried to pull yourself from the mattress.

As soon as you stood upright again, you felt Øystein's load oozing out of you, soaking the flimsy fabric of your slip with every step you took. You dreaded the scenario that was unfolding outside because the yelling didn't seem to die down but much rather escalate further.

"You fucking traitor!" Pelle's raspy voice cut through the night air, hitting you as soon as you slid out the front door.

"Fucking traitor?!", Øystein spat right back whilst your eyes scanned the scenery anxiously, "You're the spineless loser, Per!"

"You fucked my girlfriend, Øystein!" Dead yelled and with his words you noticed Metallion and Jan Axel staring right at you, nothing but drunk confusion washing over their faces.

"And you pathetic fuck got off to it!" Euronymous had to duck down to dodge an empty beer bottle being sent his way.

"You what?!" You directed the question right at your boyfriend before you noticed a tell-tale damp and soaked-through spot right around his zipper.

"Yes, please tell her how you stood outside the room jerking off to your girl breaking down in front of me, Per!" Your bewildered stare rushed towards Øystein now.

"Huh? You…you saw him or what now?!?" The guitarist shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Jan Axel tried to intervene but both Per and Øystein shushed him almost simultaneously.

"You shut the fuck up!" Pelle sneered, looking like he was about ready to throw one of the plenty empty bottles of beer after his drummer too.

"No.", You huffed, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso to shield you from the creeping cold, "He actually got a point, because…what the hell?!"

"Pumpkin, I can explain, I promise." Per raised his hands in a soothing manner but you didn't feel like having any of it.

"Don't you dare sweet-talk me now, Pelle! You've been pushing me away for months but…you get off to, well, this?" You indirectly confirmed all that had been happening between Øystein and you.

"No. Just no. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck this shit. I'm not even remotely drunk enough to deal with this shitshow right now." To undoubtedly cement your point, you took a few swift steps toward Øystein who was looking at you with wide eyes as you fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, drawing one for yourself before deliberately putting it to your lips.

"Yes, I fucked Øystein.", You threw your hands into the air after lighting the cigarette, "Maybe I should've done that much sooner, who knows?"

The last sentence was solely aimed to hurt Per as much as he had hurt you.

"Fucking hell, I'm so sick of all this dysfunctional shit…", You just shook your head before heading back inside, "Better none of you disrupt the date I have with a piss-warm bottle of Jägermeister now or you fucking bet I'll cut your dick off!"

[suicide-bullet]

reader is religious, euronymous fucks her woooo!!!

fem reader + oc, if u want a specific description request pls! corruption kink, degradation kink, praise kink too, pet names, name calling, blasphemy, freaky smut, cheating, hair pulling, dom!euronymous, sub!reader, stranger to lovers.

y/n walked into the unfamiliar store, her blonde curls bouncing with every step. her short, black mini skirt riding up, as she adjusted her leather jacket. her crucifix lay on her chest, bouncing atop of her breasts. for a religious girl she certainly showed a lot of skin, as her mother would say. the bell rang, the long haired man at the counter spun on his feet. she stood to the left of the store, flicking through the albums.

she looked around, spotting many upside-down crosses, making her grimace. y/n walked towards the counter, giving the man a smile. euronymous looked her up and down with a sly smirk, "you sure you're in the right place, little lady?" that same smirk soon turned into something else, when he spotted that necklace. she rolled her eyes, "i'm looking for an album for my boyfriend. it's his birthday tomorrow."

euronymous stared into her soul, a mix of anger and jealousy spread across his face. why did he like this girl? she was just one of those 'egotistical god whores.' he wondered how she felt about the churches, something inside of him urging to ask.

"he mentioned a name, scorpio or something." she fiddled with her black-painted fingernails. euronymous raised his eyebrows at the small girl, "scorpions?" she nodded, her eyes lit up. "yes! that was it, thankyou." euronymous chuckled, "your boyfriend is a fucking poser." her eyebrows knitted together, "what?" she spat. "you fuckin' heard me." he spoke slowly, rage clear in his voice. his eyes longed on her chest, on that necklace. "you one of those goody christian whores?"

she stayed quiet, he leaned forward. "you deaf or somethin? answer me." he demanded, making her knees buckle. "i'm not a whore." she snarled, igniting a fire within him. "don't fuckin' talk to me like that." y/n scoffed, "you can't tell me what to do." she remarked, he grabbed her by her hair, pulling her behind the counter, in front of him. he grabbed her necklace, holding it in his clutch. "you're a good girl, hm? a saint, an angel." he spoke, looking into her brown orbs. "yes." she whimpered, looking up at him.

he could smell her from beneath him. mixtures of floral, cocoa and vanilla. on the other hand, he smelt of cigarettes, cologne and strangely blood. "then why are you here? can't you see? i'm a satanist, baby." she grimaced yet again, "you need jesus." euronymous grabbed her neck, "why you always got a fuckin' attitude? your boyfriend doesn't fuck you hard enough, is that it?" y/n shook her head, "my boyfriend fucks me just fine."

"oh, sweetheart. he fucks you? your little god wouldn't be so happy about that now would he?" euronymous teased, she pouted her lips, tears pricking in her eyes. "maybe you need to repent for your sins, i can help you with that." he grabbed her waist, rubbing against the soft skin, his lips latching on to her neck, she let out a quiet moan. "no, stop. this is wrong, i, i don't even know you. and, and i have a boyfriend." euronymous continued, she didn't fight it, letting out whimpers as he travelled down her neck.

a pool of slick formed in her underwear, as she smashed her lips against his. his hands cupped her face, he bit down on her lip, making her them fall apart. his tongue entering her mouth, her own fighting for dominance. "atta' girl." he mumbled, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding onto her thighs, placing her onto the counter. his hands groped her skin, ripping her black fishnets. "fuck." y/n moaned, her bangs sticking to her now sweaty forehead. he smirked, rolling her skirt up onto her hips, looking down at her deep red, lacy thong. "such a good girl, all for me." he gently moved her thong to the side, dipping a finger into her wetness.

"fuck, you're so wet already. jesus." he blasphemed, his thumb circling her clit. she moaned out in pleasure, reaching her arms out to land around his neck. her nails scratched up and down his back, making euronymous groan. he shoved two fingers into her aching hole, making her let out a downright pornographic moan. "shit, oh my god." euronymous smirked, "there's no gods in here, baby. just me." he curled his finger inside of her, hitting that sweet spot that made her toes curl, and her eyes roll back.

"shit, please. please. i need you." she begged, her hands tangled in his hair. "say it again. say my name, euronymous." he said, she whimpered. "please, euronymous. i need you." he rubbed her clit, driving her over the edge. "awh, that's just not gonna cut it, sweet girl. what do you need? use your words." he teased, she groaned. "your cock. please." she pleaded, and he smiled.

he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his black jeans. she moved a hand down to her pussy, he immediately swatted it away. "no, you fucking slut. stop. do i have to tie you up? hm?" she shook her head, "good girl." he pulled his dick out of his underwear, stroking it a few times, precum coated the tip. he then ragged her hair, making her yelp. euronymous bent her over the counter, guiding his dick towards her cunt, dragging it between her folds. "euronymous, please." she begged again, he slapped her ass, slipping into her hole. "fuck, you're so tight." she moaned out, his length filling her up.

he instantly began moving, drilling into her pussy, giving her no time to adjust to his size. "oh my god!" she screamed, as he roughed the flesh of her thighs, before his hands gripped her hips violently, for sure leaving handprints. "yeah, that's right bitch. i'm your god." he groaned out, one of his hands gripping onto the necklace, pulling it. she felt an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach, one that her boyfriend could have never given her. "shit, fuck. euro- i'm close." he pounded harder into her, abusing her pussy. "don't fuckin' cum till i say you can." he commanded, she whimpered and whined. "shut the fuck up!" he yelled, gripping onto her hair.

tears pricked her eyes, sobs racked throughout her body. "oh you gonna cry? you think that's gonna make me feel bad? shut up and fucking take it, whore." she gasped, he slapped her ass again, as she felt a knot form in her stomach. "please, i can't! s'too much!" he felt his own orgasm taking over him, as she clenched around his dick.

"fuck, go ahead, baby. cum for me." euronymous insisted, his dick twitched inside of her, as they came in unison. he groaned into her ear, kissing down her neck, leaving multiple hickeys. "good girl, you were so good for me." he whispered sweet words into her ear, rubbing his hands over her waist and hips. he pulled his clothes back on, before pulling her panties back up, and pulling her over his shoulder. "what are you doing?" she managed to whisper-yell out. "m' gonna clean you up." he responded, she sighed softly, as he lay her down on the basement couch.

he wet a flannel, cleaning her thighs up, his cum still oozing down them. he grabbed one of his t-shirts for her to wear, ushering her to stand up, so he could slip it over her head. he sat lay down next to her, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat. "you did so well, sweetheart. i'm so proud of you." he spoke, reaching her hand up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles.

"y/n, where are you?" the two heard a voice shout from upstairs, "you can't fucking leave me, you bitch!" he continued. euronymous' eyebrows knitted together, his jaw clenched. "you just let that cunt speak to you like that?" y/n shrugged, a frown visible on her face. "no, fuck no. you're a sweet girl, y/n. i wont let anything happen to you, okay? you're not going anywhere with him, ever again." euronymous stood up, "ronymous' baby, where are you going?" y/n questioned, following after him.

she stopped in her tracks, hearing the yells of her, now ex, boyfriend, and the yells of euronymous. let's just say, her ex never stepped foot in that store again.

i love writing for euronymous, pls send requests!!!

[angelsnkisses]

Euronymous and something with nose ifyk 🤭

A/N: ur so real for this 😭. i wanted to play around with a sort of sunshiney character for him, since he's all doom and gloom, yk? hope you enjoy <3!

P.S. a safeword is never specifically mentioned, but there is one in place!

disclaimer: this has nothing to do with the real øystein aarseth. this is strictly based on rory's portrayal of the character.

One More ♡ - Euronymous x fem!reader

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

warnings: brief mentions of drinking, smoking, dom!euronymous, sub!fem!reader, facesitting, oral (fem receiving), nose riding, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, fingering

His hand was warm in yours, contrasting the chilly night air as you walked. Your sneakers scuffed against the damp sidewalk alongside his dark boots, your steps a little more bouncy as you spoke to him. He was listening carefully to your words, secretly loving how bubbly your voice was. You were in a great mood, especially after having a couple drinks at the party you guys were walking home from.

To an outsiders view, the two of you were an unlikely couple. It had nothing to do with appearance, you were just so sweet. So polite, so kind to everyone. He wasn't a complete asshole, but he certainly wasn't holding doors or giving up bus seats for anyone other than you. He liked fucking with people, which he tried to do less when you were around. Although, part of him loved how you would smack his chest and scold his manners, or how you'd give him a stern look while shaking your pretty little head at his antics.

"..then they told me about college and stuff, it was really nice to see them again," you concluded, turning your head to beam up at your boyfriend. He hummed, returning your gaze with a small smile. You had gotten to see some of your old friends who were overseas for school, and you couldn't stop talking about it. You hadn't been able to afford travelling very far, and it was exciting to hear about how much fun they were all having.

"Happy you had fun, doll," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his. You felt yourself blushing at his words, your teeth flashing as your smile grew. You just loved when he called you stuff like that. Doll, love, princess, baby- anything along those lines just had you melting, especially since he wasn't nearly as affectionate towards anyone else. You looked forward as you continued your walk, getting a little closer to him.

Your other hand held a half-dead cigarette, the smell infiltrating your nose as you brought it up for a drag. The sour smoke filled up your lungs, coming out translucent and white as you exhaled. You offered it up to him, and he gladly accepted it, holding it in his free hand.

Your apartment was only another few minutes, but you were still regretting your outfit choice. Your skirt only came down to your mid thigh, leaving your legs exposed to the frigid weather around you. You had on a long sleeved top, but it was cropped and thin, leaving you shivering at his side.

"Øystein, I'm cold," you whined, even though he had specifically told you that you were gonna be freezing in that outfit. He seemed mellowed out from the party, not making a snarky comment about how he told you so like he normally would. Instead, he just pulled his hand from yours, holding the cigarette in his mouth and shrugging off his jacket. He held it up behind you, shaking it a bit to signal he wanted you to put it on. A giddy smile broke out across your face, the gesture making your heart all warm and melty.

You didn't hesitate to accept his help, slipping your arms into the sleeves and sighing in relief. You didn't feel too bad about it, he had on a thicker sweater than you did. The jacket was toasty from his body heat, warming up your top half almost immediately. It smelled like smoke and cheap cologne, but you loved it. It smelled like him. He tossed the cigarette into the street before hooking an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side and pressing a firm kiss to the side of your head.

"Looks better on you, anyways," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he ducked his head down. He silenced your singsongy 'thank you' with a messy kiss, stumbling over his footsteps a bit as he did so. You laughed at his assertion, the sound ringing in his ears as you began kissing him back. You had to push him back when he started trailing his kisses down, putting your palm over his mouth and shaking your head.

"It's just around the corner, come on," you insisted, ignoring his frustrated muffles against your hand. You removed it, tugging him along the pavement. Wet droplets started to fall from the dark sky, splashing on your cold skin and making you tremble. Soon you were both jogging down the street to try and outrun the rain, hand in hand. The rain got heavier and heavier, and by the time you got home, you were both damp with rainwater. The earthy wetness on your skin didn't make him want you any less, not now that you two were really alone.

He was all over you, hands roaming your exposed midriff while his mouth worked on your neck feverishly. You released a heavy breath, struggling a bit with your key as you tried to jam it into the worn doorknob. You turned it quickly when it went in, hurrying to get the door open while he pushed his jacket off your shoulders. He had you pressed against the door as soon as it was shut, swallowing your surprised moan in a desperate, sudden kiss.

He was touching you like it was his last chance, with need that seemingly came out of nowhere. You held onto him, nose bumping into his as you shifted angles, his hands slipping down to your waist. He groaned into the kiss when he felt how cold your skin still was, pulling back to look at you again. He took in your appearance, biting back the million disrespectful comments bouncing around his head. Nothing mean, of course.. just filthy, vulgar thoughts about every single thing he wanted to do to you.

"You still cold?" he asked, his voice husky and heated. You nodded quickly, squeezing his shoulders to steady your shaky hands. Goosebumps raised where he touched you, which didn't go unnoticed by him. He couldn't help but smile again, kicking his boots off before beginning to pull you towards the bedroom.

"Let's warm you up, then."

**

"Baby, relax. It'll feel so good, I promise," he cooed up from between your thighs, blue eyes peeking up at you. You were covering your face, a whine leaving you lips at his insistence. You had never sat on his face before, but he seemed really into the idea. You didn't wanna take the fun out of it, you were just so nervous. He'd eaten you out a million times before, but not like this. Not in such a different, foreign way. Reminding yourself it was just Øystein, you took a deep breath, putting your hands down and peering down at him.

"If I do this.. just- you promise you'll stop me if I'm suffocating you?" you asked, expressing your fear of smothering him for the hundredth time. He just kept his firm grip on your thighs, grinning enthusiastically.

"Probably, maybe.. come on, I want you to," he assured you, gently tugging you down with encouragement. You gasped shakily when you felt his nose graze your clit, his breath hot on your weeping cunt. He was laying on his back, head on a pillow to elevate him a bit. Your knees were on either side of his head, hovering over his face with shaky fear of hurting him. Praying for the best, you finally lowered yourself.

The second his mouth connected with you, a low moan emitted from his throat, vibrating through you. You whimpered softly at the feeling, one of your hands lacing into his hair. His tongue lapped at your arousal greedily, the tip of his nose still bumping into your clit as he did so. You let out a particularly loud moan, tugging at his hair and letting your head fall back. He was right, it felt good.

He knew exactly what he was doing, tugging you even closer with firm hands, still clasped over the fat of your thighs. Your clit was fully pressed to his nose now, your lips parting as you whined. You looked back down at him, starting to frantically card through his hair with shaky fingers. He smiled against you, pulling back a bit to speak.

"What, do you like that?" he crooned, making your lower abdomen flutter and tingle in all sorts of ways. He knocked his nose against you with more intention, forcing a moan to claw its way out of your throat. You finally nodded, a quiet 'please' falling from your swollen lips. He felt a sense of pride, mumbling something about how polite you were for him before continuing his torment.

He didn't stop you when you started subconsciously bucking your hips against his nose, tongue-fucking you eagerly while you did so. You felt a burning tightness building up in your belly, your fingers grabbing at his hair again as you moaned his name like it was a mantra. He could always tell when you were gonna finish, and he didn't plan on stopping you.

He kept up his movements, letting you ride his face until you were a shaking, noisy mess above him. When it washed over you, you frantically searched for one of his hands that rested on your thigh, holding onto it the best you could while you rode it out. Pleasure was surging through your veins, pumping into your blood and swallowing you up like a tsunami. He just licked up everything you had to give him, drowning in you.

He felt your body stop shaking after a few moments, his fingers squeezing yours as you slowly recovered. You started to climb off, earning a resistant grunt from him. He kept you on his face, giving you a near desperate stare.

"One more, for me?" he asked, watching your face. He watched your contemplation before you reluctantly agreed, earning a genuine smile from him. "So sweet, let me make you feel good," he muttered under his breath, his tongue sticking out to lick a thick stripe up your slit. You tossed your head back, a low moan slipping out of your lips as he started licking at you all over again. He pressed his nose against you with more purpose, letting you grind down on it as you pleased.

He was borderline making out with your pussy, intoxicated by your scent, your taste, everything. His jaw flexed as he hummed against you, the sloppy, wet noises bringing a blush to your face. The delicious, tingling sensation bloomed over you, his mouth worshipping your sensitive cunt like she was royalty. Your noises only egged him on, music to his ears.

It didn't take much to bring you to your second release, your thighs closing around his head as you finished yet again. You moaned with significantly less control, the feeling much more intense the second time around. You had to take several deep breaths before you were ready to move off his face, legs wobbling as you did so. He almost pulled you back down, wanting to spend all night between your thighs, making you feel good. Still, he let you get up, pressing a kiss to your clit before you could fully remove yourself.

You settled on your side next to him, smiling lazily before pressing your lips to his. His hand moved up to hold the back of your head, kissing you back with vigor. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, sending a small shiver down your spine. It wasn't long before he had pushed you onto your back, getting up to hover himself over you with that same desperate need as before.

He couldn't keep his lips off you, his tongue pushing it's way into your mouth and swallowing up all your pretty sounds. His hands were almost frantic as they grabbed at your hips, tugging them closer to his and parting your legs. You found yourself laughing quietly at his urgency, both your teeth clashing as you silenced yourself on his lips again.

He rolled his hips forward, his painfully hard cock brushing up against your sensitive, wet heat. His moan was muffled, drowned out and faint as his eyes flickered open. He pulled his lips from yours, looking down at what he was doing breathlessly, fingers pressed into your soft skin. A possessive satisfaction filled him at the sight of the small, faded marks on your hips from previous nights with you.

"Look at you.." he murmured, his eyes trailing back up to yours. His pupils were blown, his irises not much more than a thin blue outline around the pitch darkness. His dark hair fell in his face, the ends tickling your skin from his closeness. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting back a smile when you started trying to push yourself down onto him. Holding your waist still with his big hands, he pushed you down into the mattress, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. His lips moved to your ear, teeth grazing the lobe as he spoke.

"You need more?" he asked quietly, beginning to pepper kisses across your jaw, trailing down your neck. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear your voice. You were beautifully overwhelmed by him, his warmth, his lips, his hands.. all of it was throwing your senses into overdrive. "Yes, please. I need you," you pleaded, wincing when his nails started digging into your hips. Despite the discomfort, he was still being way more gentle than usual.

He finally, finally reached a hand down, holding his base so he could line up with you. You felt his lips on your skin, muffling his satisfied hum as he slowly started pushing himself inside. You gasped when his tip breached your walls, head falling back. There was a small sting, but nothing unbearable. You felt your stomach flutter, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you.

He didn't give you much time to adjust, pushing himself almost all the way inside with an impatient moan. You cried out, clawing at his shoulders as he forced those last few, painful inches in. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over as he kissed your neck apologetically. He pulled back to look at your pained expression, starting to thrust in and out of you at a slow, heavy pace.

A choked moan bubbled up in your throat as you fought to keep your eyes open, looking up at him with adoration, despite the obscene nature of the situation. Your fingers were leaving small marks on his shoulders, matching the ones he was inflicting on your sides with his bruising grip. He was quick to start speeding up his pace, the filthy wet sounds of him fucking you getting louder along with your moans. Your eyes flickered down between the two of you, stomach doing backflips at the sight of him disappearing inside you before pulling himself back out. His cock was shiny and wet, coated in your arousal. The sight made your walls flutter around him.

The pleasure was everywhere, spreading through your abdomen and thrumming along with your frantic pulse. You struggled to keep a reasonable volume, using all your willpower to not scream for him (you did still have neighbors.) You were already sensitive from your previous orgasms, your legs beginning to tremble as the feeling became too much. You had a moment of relief when his thrusts began to slow, only to realize he was merely repositioning. He perched himself up on his knees, hands sliding down to your thighs so he could grip them firmly. He tugged you down while simultaneously lifting your hips a little, spreading out your legs nice and wide before his thrusts continued.

Your head fell back, hands falling from his shoulders to grip at the sheets below you. He was going faster than before, the sound of skin on skin increasing in volume as he thrusts got harder and harder. "Fuck, needed you all day," he enunciates, his own voice starting to sound strained as he rocked in and out of you. He was going at it with much more force now, chasing his own release, enticing countless mewls and moans from your shaking figure.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, one hand releasing your thigh to spread over your abdomen. He leaned himself a bit forward, hand pressing down just enough to feel the faint knock of himself against his palm. An almost animalistic groan escaped his tired lungs, the sheer vulgarity of being able to feel the bulge of his tip stretching you out just right was enough to have him twitching inside you, moans more consistent. The sounds he was making had your cunt throbbing around him, only adding to the stimulation. He managed to pry his hand away from your belly, pushing it down and rubbing quick, firm circles on your clit. Your hips jerked at the feeling, eyes watering as you tried to grab at his hand.

"That's- ohh, 's too much," you slurred, barely aware of his prideful grin as he listened to you. You were already fucked out and overstimulated, not much more than a crying mess as he repeatedly stuffed you full. He just ignored your meek hands pushing at his, hunching himself over so he could press a kiss to your jaw. "Shh, you wanna feel good, don't you?" he cooed, nudging your head to the side with his nose so he could kiss at your marked neck. You whined, eyes fluttering shut.

"It's too good," you admitted in a whimper, feeling his teeth graze over your neck. He made a breathless noise at your words, more than pleased by what you had said. The hand that still held your thigh tightened just a bit, his thrusts never faltering. He shook his head, rubbing your puffy clit faster as he spoke to you, ignoring your chorus of moans and pleads.

"You can take it, just one more," he murmured for the second time that night. You had to fight back a heavy groan, knowing one more was never enough for him. He wanted you ruined, and he wouldn't settle for anything less. He pulled back so he could watch you, trying to stop himself from finishing before you. It was a difficult task, you were just so pretty, so perfect, all for him. It drove him up the walls just thinking about how you were his. Your mind started to go blank when he started hitting that sensitive spot inside you, your abdomen spasming.

The last knot keeping you together beneath him snapped, your climax hitting you like a fucking train. He refused to slow down or stop, fucking you like a porn star through the whole thing. You were shaking, a thin line of drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, much to your embarrassment.

He held onto your thigh like it was his sole anchor to the earth as he felt you come undone, his orgasm following quickly after yours. He pushed himself as deep as he could, filling you up with a husky whimper. He was giving you so much, emptying himself out in you with a possessive, hooded gaze. You couldn't stop shaking, fresh tears flowing down your cheeks as the feeling began to slowly subside. He panted as he recovered, realizing just how much he'd ruined you.

He chuckled at the sight, but not in a ridiculing way. He sounded enamored, relishing the sight of you all vulnerable and trembling, a sight that only he would ever get to see. You slowly started to recover your senses, breathing heavily as you came back down to earth. You were vaguely aware of him slowly pulling out, a lewd gasp sounding from your sore throat at the feeling of his cum spilling out of you.

He grinned at the sight, unable to stop himself from reaching forward and prodding at your spent hole. He couldn't help pushing some of his cum back inside, intentionally curling his fingers up a bit as he did so. His eyes flickered back up to yours when you made a soft noise, trying to push his hand away. He didn't stop, deciding to finger you lazily as he spoke.

"You did so good, baby.. aw, come on, just one more?"

**

A/N: yeah, yeah, i haven't posted in too long.. good lord i must have forgotten how to write overnight or something, tell me why this took me DAYS to finish. i might have to start updating some new fandoms soon ... but i'm def coming out with some gn!reader reader stuff next 🤭. anyways, i hope you enjoyed!

[444rockstargf]

i know you write for rory’s portrayal of euronymous but i was wondering if you’d be willing to write something (potentially smutty) with euro and jack kilmer’s portrayal of pelle/dead for the lords of chaos film?

maybe the reader is euro’s girlfriend and one night after a party or show he lets pelle join them in the bedroom bc he doesn’t think he gets much action

ask & you shall recieve :))

"ridin' like a bitch." | euronymous & dead

ridin. - lana del rey + a$ap rocky

female!reader x euronymous + dead

word count: 1062

contents: threesome, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, spit roast position, creampie, cum eating

you and euro were fulfilling your post-concert routine. he would dash off of the stage and lead you out of the crowd, taking you backstage to celebrate a great show. but tonight, there was an addition to your little party. the lead singer was sitting on the couch, looking at you like a predator watching its prey. something about his stare made your blood run cold, giving you a glimpse of what you were getting into tonight.

euronymous gave you a crooked little smile. “don’t be scared, doll. just be a good girl like you usually are. i know you’ll get used to this very quickly…” and with that, the two men approached you and started to strip you down, leaving you with no time to think. euro went straight for your little tank top, undoing the little string that kept it from being just a useless piece of fabric.

dead watched as euro unclipped your bra and let it drop to the ground. he spoke, his voice raspy, “quite the girl you’ve got here… ” he got down on his knees and took off your black miniskirt, tossing it to the side and leaving you in your thong and fishnet stockings. euronymous picked you up and threw you over his shoulder as he walked over to the mattress on the ground in the corner of the room.

he set you down, leaving you on full display for both of them. it was clear that they were thinking about all the things that they were going to do with you. you noticed that dead was slowly palming himself through his black jeans. they had both grown painfully hard just from stripping you down, and they hadn’t even gotten to the main event yet.

they gave each other a look before they both came onto the mattress with you. euronymous got behind you while dead was right in your face. euro laid a sharp slap on your ass, making you wince. “ass up, doll.” you lifted your hips in the air just as he asked. he slipped your thong to the side, exposing your swollen little pussy that was just begging to be ruined. he spat on it before rubbing circles onto your clit with his thumb.

you put your face into the mattress as a quiet moan escaped you. dead grabbed your hair, forcing you to look up. you were face-to-face with his raging boner. he unbuttoned his pants, his rock-hard cock springing out and almost hitting you on the nose. you gasped, the size surprising you a little. you couldn’t say it out loud, but it made euro’s dick look like a joke. dead smiled a little at your reaction.

he held your chin gently but firmly. “open.” it was a simple command, but you felt obliged to do whatever he asked. he slowly slipped his cock into your mouth, you gagging when it hit the back of your throat. he pushed it all the way in, feeling as your muscles clenched around his length. he didn’t give you anytime to adjust, immediately pushing his cock in and out of your throat.

your eyes welled with tears, making both men chuckle. euronymous saw your pussy throb, practically begging to be fucked. he brought his head down and connected his lips with yours, licking complicated patterns on your clit. a blocked moan erupted from your throat, sending vibrations through dead’s body. he shuddered with pleasure, grabbing your head and moving himself a little faster.

the mix of having your throat broken into while being filled with an unearthly amount of pleasure made your body heat up. euro shoved two fingers into your tight cunt, pumping them in and out of you quickly. every moan, whimper, and whine that came out of you brought dead closer to a mind-boggling orgasm. he grabbed your whole head and started vigorously fucking your throat, his balls slapping your chin every now and then. 

there was spit and precum leaking down your chin and dripping onto the mattress. euronymous disconnect his mouth from your pussy, your juices flowing out from his mouth. he had been too occupied to jerk himself off, and he was in desperate need of some relief. he pulled his cock out and gave it a few lazy strokes before lining himself up with your hole.

his tip was red and swollen, already dripping with precum. he wasted no time stuffing you up with his length. your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the feeling of being filled up like this. the room was filled with the sound of their moans and your muffled little whimpers. your face was wet with tears, saliva, sweat and precum. you felt dead’s cock starting to twitch in your mouth, signalling a powerful orgasm.

euronymous pounded into your tight cunt, using his thumb to rub your throbbing clit. a strong shiver ran down your spine as you felt your hole convulsing around him. he threw his head back as a loud groan emerged from the depths of his soul. you felt his hot cum shooting into you as he thrusting into you mercilessly. dead leaned back on the wall for support as your moans sent his body into oblivion.

he shoved his length all the way down your throat, dumping all of his cum into your stomach. a waterfall of tears ran down your face as you choked on his length. euronymous gave you a few more lazy thrusts before he pulled out, collapsing on the mattress. dead pulled his softening length out of your throat, leaning on the wall as he caught his breath.

you lay on your side as you let out a few coughs. you could feel warm cum oozing out of your pussy as you recollected yourself. the three of you were panting and sweating like dogs as expected. after several minutes, euronymous picked you up and set you down on the couch, placing his leather jacket on top of your nude body.

he planted a soft kiss on your cheek as you felt your body surrendering to exhaustion. dead remained on the mattress, looking satisfied. euronymous joined dead on the mattress, engaging in a quiet little discussion. you found yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, your body still sore from tonight’s activity. needless to say, this became your new post-concert routine.

author's note: im so sorry for the delay on all your requests :(( but the box is still open so dont hold back. i also had a lot of fun with this one, so thank you!!

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 1

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink

Euronymous saw her everywhere. She worked for the local grocery delivery service during the day and his favorite food place in town. He wishes he could say that it was his favorite only because of the falafal but he enjoyed the banter that they had with one another. He was too focused on Mayhem getting a new singer and getting some shows under their belts to even remotely consider the idea of courting anyone but if he had, Y/n would be the first person he would look up.

"Oystein! Make sure you take that dead plant to the garbage before you leave!" He grabbed the now brown plant and shoved it under his arm as he walked down the front steps. He noticed the grocery bike parked across the street but no sign of Y/n. He tossed the plant just as she came through the gate of the neighbors house and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi there! Heading off to make the devils music?" Y/n knew he was in a band and that metal was his favorite genre. He never understood why she wasn't afraid of him like most normal people he ran across but he wasn't going to question it.

"Of course. Just doing my part to crumble the edification of society." Euronymous said confidently with a smirk.

"Sounds like a busy day. I'd hate to interrupt." She threw her leg over the bike.

"You want a ride? You can put your bike in the back-" He gestured to the empty trunk and she shook her head.

"I'm done with my deliveries for today so I'm heading home, thanks." She appreciated the offer but she knew that wherever he was heading wasn't anywhere close to her house.

"Ah so you don't want me to know where you live? I thought we were kindred souls." Euronymous teased.

"Atheist is not the same as Satanist, Oystein. Not exactly kindred but I'd hate for you to be caught with a poser like me riding shotgun." He had never mentioned he was a Satanist but the band also frequented the Falafal joint and he's sure she's heard them discussing the direction he wanted to take Mayhem in.

And still, that didn't scare her off.

"Euronymous. My name is Euronymous." He corrected firmly. She smiled, scrunching her nose at the name like she always had.

"I'm sorry but I won't ever call you Euronymous. I just don't see it." He paused at the statement.

"See what?" He inquired.

"I know the origin of the name. You just don't give off flesh eating spirit dwelling in the underworld. Your eyes are too pretty for that one." She complimented making him cough into his hand to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

"You don't know me very well. Maybe you should come to one of my shows and you'll change your mind." He tried to sound menacing but Y/n knew just as much about Oystein as he did her.

She knew he was a good son and brother. She knew he used to get pretty decent grades when he was in school and that he's been playing his guitar since he was 10 years old. She could never see him as some cannibalistic nightmare of a person. He might think highly of himself but she had seen such a softer side of him when delivering groceries for his family.

"Maybe." She shrugged. She had often responded to his show invites with a maybe and he was always disappointed when she never showed but he understood how busy she was. She worked two jobs to take care of herself and her family.

"I'll see you around, Y/N" He held his hand up and she mockingly gave him the devil horns she had seen his sister do so often when they were listening to the loud metal music blasting from the upstairs bedroom window. He chuckled and returned the gesture.

"See you around Oystein." She watched him pull down the street and didn't even notice he was already looking at her in the rear view mirror. He would never understand how two people who were so insanely different could have such a good rapport.

[haywire-hetfield]

SORRY IF THIS SOUNDS DEMANDING ESP SINCE YOU RECENTLY WROTE ONE BUT ughhhh I love your pelle and oystein writings sooo much pleade feed us another one

It's not demanding at all! I hope you enjoy it

Warnings: Hand jobs, frottage, forest sex, depression, self-harm.

Words: 3,043

Øystein didn’t think anyone would call Pelle easy to deal with. Between the dead things he dragged back into the house and his bouts of confining himself to his bed, he was a handful and often grated on Øystein’s nerves. Handling him seemed to be an almost full-time job. 

Still, there were good times when Øystein could simply forget about how difficult it was. 

It seemed that there was never a medium, simply two different extremes. Either Øystein felt ready to actually kill his bandmate or he felt like he was on top of the world and would never come down. Luckily, today seemed to be one of the latter situations. 

Øystein had followed him out into the woods, creeping as quietly as he could along with Pelle. He was hunting after something, although Øystein was unsure of what it exactly was. It might have been a rabbit, but it was all the same to Øystein in the end. He didn’t gain any of the pleasure Pelle did from killing something; he was simply in it because it made Pelle happy. It was a good reprieve from the usual melancholy Pelle usually conducted himself with. 

Pelle had kept the knife with himself, insisting Øystein wouldn’t be able to catch something and he did have a point. Although, Øystein wasn’t sure how many things Pelle actually caught either. But he was perceptive and quick. Ironically enough, Pelle reminded him of a cat in a lot of ways. 

Øystein barely had time to react when Pelle suddenly took off after something that he himself hadn’t even noticed. 

“Pelle,” Øystein called to him, running after the blonde as soon as he realized what was going on. Flashes went through his mind of Pelle falling with the knife and accidentally killing himself, impaling himself too deeply for duct tape or a few stitches to fix. “Drop it,” He insisted, speaking to him in the same way one might talk to an unruly dog who had grabbed something it shouldn’t. 

Pelle glanced over his shoulder to look at Øystein, giggling at him and obediently tossing the knife into the fallen leaves on the forest floor. He kept running, though. The realization hit Øystein a moment later that Pelle was no longer running after something, he was running from Øystein. And he wanted him to chase. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, Pelle often enjoyed playing weird little games with Øystein. He was happy to indulge this one, it rarely carried any risk of Pelle actually getting hurt outside of a few scratches and bruises. It made Øystein’s lungs and legs burn, however. He wasn’t used to running after something and he knew he only ever grabbed Pelle once the man let himself be caught. Sometimes, Øystein believed Pelle liked being captured more than being chased. 

Øystein gave chase regardless, doing his best to catch up to the taller man. He followed the flashes of blonde hair, trying to avoid the trees and roots. He wasn’t quite sure how Pelle managed to make this look so graceful and effortless. 

Pelle glanced over his shoulders a few more times as he darted through the trees, smiling every time he did so. Øystein could get used to seeing him carefree in this way, even if it was making his breathing grow heavy and his heart race faster. Pelle always seemed to know exactly how long Øystein could go, letting himself be caught up to. This time was no different. 

Suddenly, Pelle stopped in his tracks and spun to face Øystein. He didn’t have enough time to react before he crashed into Pelle, sending them both onto the ground. Pelle was laughing sharply as his back hit the ground, the noise becoming strained and airy as the wind was knocked out of him. Øystein landed roughly on top of him, grunting as their bodies collided hard enough that he worried there would be bruises by tomorrow. 

“Jesus, Pelle. Don’t do that,” He complained, trying to reorient himself. He did a quick mental check of his body, making sure he hadn’t seriously hurt anything on the rough tumble to the ground. Nothing seemed to be out of place. 

“Stay,” Pelle encouraged as Øystein tried to climb to his feet. His arms curled around the dark haired man’s middle, keeping him close. It earned him a weird look that he only met with a smile. “I don’t want to go back yet,” He added, softer than he had been before. 

Øystein checked around them, making sure nobody could see them tangled up like this. Logically, he knew they wouldn’t be disturbed out here. They were in the middle of nowhere with nothing to find except the occasional animal. Knowing that  didn’t keep him from double checking. 

“We can stay,” Øystein told him softly, almost as though he was afraid to get too loud. He knew what Pelle wanted, the same thing they’d tried a few times before now. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he wanted it too. He’d wanted it every single time, although he never initiated and often tried to put up a fuss about it before always giving in. 

Pelle moved first, knowing he had to. The press of their lips was gentle in the beginning, it usually was. He liked to ease into things most of the time, Øystein had discovered. It was surprising to him if he was being honest, Pelle was so quick to dive head-first into everything else. Øystein didn’t really mind warming him up a bit first if that was what he needed. 

He waited for a moment before he kissed Pelle back, deciding against truly fighting him on this. There was nothing around, no chance of someone stumbling upon them. Even if there was somebody else all the way out here, they’d hear them crunching through the leaves and twigs long before they could stop them. 

Øystein waited for a bit, just kissing Pelle softly for a time before he slipped one hand up beneath his shirt. Pelle’s skin was slightly chilly underneath his touch, both from his natural coolness and from the fact he wasn’t dressed warmly enough for the weather. He never seemed bothered by the elements and Øystein thought he could be freezing to death without even being phased. 

Pelle pulled free from the kiss to catch his breath, shifting around a bit when Øystein’s fingertips grazed over semi-fresh cuts littering his sides. The blood on them was dried, although they hadn’t begun to truly scab over yet and Øystein could tell that they were sensitive. 

“Show me them,” Øystein murmured and Pelle knew exactly what he wanted. He shoved Øystein away from him enough to wiggle out of his long-sleeved shirt, tossing it aside and trying to get comfortable on the abrasive forest floor. As it was, leaves and dirt already clumped in his blonde hair. “There’s so many more,” Øystein noted, a hint of awe in his voice as he looked on. 

Pelle’s pale skin was marred by angry red marks covering so much of him. There were old ones, some that had already scarred over and no longer looked irritated. Øystein’s eyes were drawn to the new ones, though. 

There was significantly more than there had been and he wasn’t sure where to look first. Most were thin, long lines going horizontally along his sides. It appeared as though he had tried to trace lines over each ridge of his ribs, but had either gotten bored or otherwise forced to stop quickly into the idea. There were only two cuts that traced over his ribs on one side. The rest were scattered haphazardly, seemingly no real reason to it. Some were long, some were short, they were all various depths. 

Øystein reached out to touch one particularly nasty looking one close to Pelle’s hip, stroking his thumb over it gently. It was deep, almost to the point where Øystein would worry it might need stitches if he’d seen it when it was fresh. Now, the blood had dried into thick globs along the wound and he dug his nail into it harshly without thinking. It made Pelle’s body jerk and a hiss escaped his throat, although he didn’t fight against him. 

The action drew blood to the surface, dislodging the dried blood that was already there and forcing fresh red to ooze out. He was captivated by it for a moment and he wished he could draw more, but he kept the thought to himself. His eyes wandered and landed on a small X that had been carved into his side. The placement was specific and Øystein realized that it was a target of sorts. It was the right angle for a knife to be forced inside and up into his heart. 

He reached out to trace over the small mark and he felt Pelle tensing beneath his touch. It seemed he’d learned his lesson from a few moments prior, now fearing nails would always follow fingertips. Øystein remained gentle with him this time, looking up to meet his eyes. 

“Do you want to die?” Øystein asked him. Pelle blinked at him slowly, another one of his habits that reminded Øystein of a cat. He’d never tell him that, of course, not unless he wanted to really piss him off. Maybe another time. Pelle considered the question for a while, lost deep in his own thoughts and Øystein wondered how the question was truly that difficult. Either Pelle wanted to die or he didn’t. 

“Sometimes,” Pelle told him after his brief silence. His tone was flat and unreadable, and Øystein hated him when he took that voice with him. He didn’t enjoy not being able to tell what Pelle was feeling or thinking and he suspected the blonde haired man knew as much. 

“So, why haven’t you?” It was a question that had lingered on Øystein’s mind often. Pelle’s obsession with death, his depression, the self-harm. All signs pointed to yes except for the fact that Pelle was still alive. 

Killing oneself didn’t seem overly difficult to Øystein, he was sure he could do it himself if he wanted to. And Pelle certainly could. He’d proven time and time again he had no issue with hurting himself, getting close to actually dying once because of it. He could do it if he really wanted to. 

Pelle did not answer him this time. Instead, he leaned up to grasp onto Øystein’s shoulders, pulling him down closer to kiss him again. This one was rougher than the previous had been, the younger clearly attempting to change the subject of their interaction. Pelle had always lacked a certain tact for social situations, even by Øystein’s own standards, and one of his biggest social faux pas was how sharply he changed topics when he didn’t care to discuss something. 

Øystein decided he could let it go this time. They could talk about it more later if he truly desired the answer, although he wasn’t certain if he actually cared or not. The decision was ultimately Pelle’s and he sincerely doubted he wanted someone trying to force their idea of what was best for him. In all honesty, Øystein didn’t even know what would be best for Pelle. It was much easier to just let the topic drop and focus on this moment again. 

The kiss deepened and that was more than enough to recapture his full attention. He could count the number of people he’d kissed on one hand, but Pelle was easily the best at it. Long fingers reached down Øystein’s back, fiddling at the hem of his shirt and attempting to pull it off, earning a sharp slap against his knuckles. 

“It stays on,” Øystein told him, drawing away from his lips enough to speak. It earned an indignant look and noise from Pelle, but he didn’t fight him on it. Finally, something Pelle just accepted and didn’t force Øystein to argue with him on. “Don’t pout.” 

Pelle didn’t say anything about it, although his expression didn’t sweeten by much. Øystein chose to ignore it. Instead, he kissed Pelle again and pressed closer to his body. He didn’t even notice when he started rocking against the blonde, too caught up in paying attention to him. Long fingers settled for just touching Øystein’s skin beneath his shirt, fingertips running along his spine before nails dragged back down the length. 

The sharp sting on his skin spurred him to continue rocking against Pelle, groaning as his jeans provided a bit of harsh friction. He was hard in his jeans now, straining against the front. Pelle seemed to be in a similar state when he thought to take notice. His hands slipped between them, pulling away from the kiss and putting space to open their jeans. 

His fingers were clumsy as he worked them open, shoving them down only far enough to serve its purpose. Pelle was completely hard when Øystein finally exposed them both and his fingers wrapped around the blonde man’s cock a moment later. He didn’t react much at first which surprised Øystein, but he supposed the other had always been odd. 

For a long time, he hadn’t even been sure Pelle desired sex. He’d never expressed any interest in girls and hadn’t ever really showed signs of enjoying sexual contact at all. By now, Pelle had made enough first moves to dissuade the idea that it was completely uninteresting to him. 

He stroked harder, wanting to draw a reaction from the other man. It took a bit more, tightening his fist the way he’d learned Pelle liked most, before he got what he was looking for. Pelle squirmed suddenly and nearly dislodged Øystein from what he was doing, a soft cry escaping his pale lips and he sounded almost surprised by the pleasure. 

Øystein smiled once he’d found his satisfaction, stroking him for a bit longer before adjusting himself to be closer to Pelle’s body. Pelle’s fingers reached out to curl around Øystein as soon as he was close enough, making the dark-haired man whine. He wished he could be more like Pelle, less sensitive and more composed, but everything had him shifting and crying out. He stroked Øystein slowly, savoring each noise. 

“Your hands are cold,” Øystein complained weakly. It was very obvious it didn’t bother him too much, he never became less hard nor did he try to escape from Pelle’s touch. If anything, the coolness of his skin added an extra layer of unique pleasure to this. 

“I can stop if it’s a problem,” Pelle retorted with a knowing grin. Øystein’s eyebrows furrowed at being teased, but he kept quiet and focused on the pleasure for another second more. 

He shoved Pelle’s hand away from his cock and lined up with Pelle’s own, trying to wrap his hand around both of them. It was an awkward angle and Øystein found his hands weren’t quite long enough to manage this. He still tried valiantly. It was a lost cause and they both knew it, but Øystein moved his hand and adjusted his grasp on them as though he may find a technique that allowed this to work for them. 

“Let me,” Pelle encouraged, his voice softer and less teasing this time around. Øystein wasn’t happy about it, but he relented and let Pelle’s hand replace his own. It turned out to be a good choice in the end because Pelle made it work. 

His fingers and palm were large enough to wrap around both of them, palm resting on his own cock and his fingers curling around Øystein’s to press them close together. The added pressure excited Øystein, especially when he considered how odd or unconventional this may be. The taboo nature of being with another man like this excited him. 

They moved without speaking after that, although it was far from a quiet experience. Whimpers and moans dragged their way free from Øystein with every particularly good stroke. Sounds were even pulled from Pelle at times, mostly airy and high noises that Øystein clung onto every time. He wished Pelle was more vocal, but he would survive. 

Pelle stroked them together for a while until Øystein felt himself growing closer. At that point, he began rocking his hips almost involuntarily. He was chasing after the feeling and it was amplified when he could set his own pace. There was also a primal element to it, fucking mindlessly into Pelle’s hand, crouched on the forest floor. 

He was lost in it, almost missing when Pelle came. Luckily, the noise caught his ears. Pelle let out a louder cry, a harsh shudder going through his body and his fingers tightened around them. He spilled fast and hot over both of their skin, slicking the movement even more. A whine escaped him as his come settled on a few fresh cuts on his stomach, but he let it rest there until Øystein was finished to avoid disrupting the man. 

It was sweet of him and Øystein would make it up to him at another time. He wasn’t far behind him, not making him lay in his own come for very long. Pelle tried to move his hand from his own cock to wrap solely around Øystein’s, but the dark-haired man reached down quickly to tighten around Pelle’s hand in order to keep it around both of them. 

“Don’t. Feels good,” Øystein told him and Pelle seemed to want to argue against that. Ultimately, he let it happen. “Thank you,” He breathed, continuing to rock into the grasp. He tightened his hand around him even more, holding onto Pelle’s hand to guide him. Pelle’s fingers rubbed at the sensitive head and that was too much. 

Øystein cursed as he came, holding Pelle’s hand hard enough to nearly hurt. His eyes closed while he finished, thighs trembling and breath shaky. When he opened his eyes again finally, his come had added to the mess on Pelle’s stomach and without thinking, he instinctively moved to pull his own sweater off to clean them up. Goosebumps rose to his arms when the cold air hit his bare skin, but it was worth it to make sure Pelle was more comfortable now.

[lords-of-mayhem]

In The Interim

Ship: Euronymous x Dead

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dry humping, frottage, grinding

Words: 1,079

“You fucked up the makeup,” Øystein teased, echoing Pelle’s earlier words back at him.

Both of their paint was currently smeared across Pelle’s face, a result of him finally breaking down and kissing him with no regard for how it would affect it. Black paint had turned gray as it met the white carefully applied to Pelle’s lips, but both were paying more attention to each other rather than the makeup. 

“I’ll fix it later,” Pelle promised and kissed him again, equally desperate this time as he had been the first. He seemed unable to get enough of Øystein and the dark haired man had to admit it was flattering. 

His fingers wove into blonde strands, curling around them gently. He did his best to not get too rough with Pelle, not until he knew if he wanted that. Pelle had always chased pain if the scars that littered his body were anything to go by, but maybe intimacy was different. Maybe he wanted to be treated like something fragile for once, something worth holding gently. 

Pelle kissed like he needed it and Øystein was happy to give it to him. The already small bathroom felt even more cramped as Pelle moved close to him, but he didn’t mind it. He enjoyed having the other this close, no real room in between their bodies. Øystein groaned against his mouth as one of Pelle’s legs pressed between his thighs. 

He was almost halfway hard just from kissing Pelle which would embarrass him if he wasn’t so caught up in everything going on. Pelle’s thigh moved with purpose, acting as though he knew what he was doing. Øystein wouldn’t be surprised at all if he did and was doing this to rile him up more. When Pelle forced his leg against him more firmly, Øystein realized exactly what he wanted him to do. 

Øystein was a bit awkward as he began moving against him, trying to find a comfortable angle. He gasped on the first rock forward, surprised by just how good the friction felt. His cheeks burned bright pink at himself, flustered about essentially humping Pelle’s thigh and how needy he sounded for it. He was sure he looked desperate, but Pelle didn’t seem to mind. The blonde smiled down at him and kept his leg in place for him. 

“Does it feel good?” Pelle asked and he nodded almost immediately, glancing up at him. “Good. Keep going,” He encouraged and that was all Øystein needed. His free arm wrapped around Pelle’s middle to pull him closer and his thighs squeezed tighter around Pelle’s leg. Each rub along Pelle’s warm, solid thigh made him want to shiver. It was surprisingly good and Pelle’s fingers finding his own hair only spurred him on. 

Pelle’s fingers twirled through his dark locks and pressed another kiss to his lips. Øystein had a hard time even calling it a kiss. It had more teeth and tongue than anything else, but that was so fitting for Pelle. His teeth sank into Øystein’s bottom lip, biting down a bit too roughly. It earned a small whimper from Øystein and this time, he couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed by it. All he could focus on was the pleasure. 

“The makeup really is fucked up,” Pelle noted when he pulled away from the kiss this time around. He was smiling at Øystein, genuinely smiling in a way he hadn’t seen in a while. He laughed back, although the noise was breathless. His hips continued to rock at the pace he’d found, doing what worked best. He’d finally gotten the angle worked out and he was afraid to lose it if he slowed down. 

“Looks like you have lipstick on,” Øystein told him. The hand that had been in his hair moved to Pelle’s face instead, pulling the hair away from the paint on his cheeks. His hair looked unusually dark against the stark white paint, but he was beautiful. “You should do it more often,” He added and Pelle laughed loudly, moving his head to the side of Øystein’s neck instead. 

Pelle began rocking against his body as well, rubbing along his hip more than his thigh. He dug his teeth down into Øystein’s skin, making the smaller man jolt beneath the feeling. Øystein let out a quiet groan and knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not if Pelle kept biting. He didn’t foresee it stopping, the blonde had always had a penchant for sinking his teeth into things he probably shouldn’t. 

“Fuck, Pelle. Too much,” Øystein tried to scold, but his words were halfhearted and Pelle knew he didn’t truly mean them. He kept going, licking over the spot he had just bitten. Blood hadn’t been drawn this time, but the threat was always there. “I’m going to come,” He warned him and as expected, Pelle didn’t back off. He wasn’t usually one for teasing, not when it went this far. 

“Come for me then,” Pelle encouraged and Øystein nodded the best he could. Teeth and tongue returned to his skin, sucking a mark close to his jaw. It was much too high for Øystein to be able to cover it with clothes and he suspected Pelle did that on purpose. 

Both of Øystein’s arms wrapped around his middle, forcing him even closer to him. He didn’t even pull away now, simply rubbing himself up against Pelle like a cat. A moan escaped from deep in his throat, sounding just as desperate as he felt and he was spilling into his boxers after a few more moments. He didn’t stop until he was bordering on overstimulation, whining as he tried to pull away. 

Pelle kept him close for a bit longer. Luckily, it didn’t take many more minutes before Pelle was letting out a noise of his own. It was light and airy, and Øystein was shocked by it. Pelle usually wasn’t terribly vocal, so he especially treasured every noise he did manage to draw out. Even if he didn’t really do anything except stand there this time around. He recognized Pelle had finally come as well, gently pulling away after a bit. “Jesus,” Øystein breathed as he tried to catch his breath. Looking up at Pelle, he examined his features for a second. He was disheveled, hair messy and lips parted. “You’re wearing my corpse paint,” Øystein said once he managed to regain his composure, a small smile on his lips.

[ferxisakasuna]

Euronymous and Dead from Mayhem

[nom-nommmm1]

sorry! I have a suggestion: dead and y/n meet through friends and start liking each other without the other knowing and he offers to watch a horror movie with her one night (because she doesn't want to watch alone) and he's super shy and keeps a distance between them but she asks him to be there so she doesn't get scared. at one particularly scary scene she hides her face in his neck and he freaks out, and they kind of look at each other and finally kiss. then they have sex and he's very shy about it but she helps me feel better and it's amazing for both of them

THE MOVIE - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist for more + taglist !!

A/n: Hey anon! Thank you for the idea I hope you enjoy! :) For context y/n is not a virgin but Pelle is

Content warning !!: shy!pelle x fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, dick riding, hickeys

As the wind flew past the window of the school building she shivered a bit. The science teacher always left the window open no matter the weather. Somehow a kid always managed to spill a chemical in his class that would be too toxic just to breathe in so he ended up just keeping his windows open all the time. “Alright kids, off to lunch” he says. All the kids walk their way to the cafeteria tiredly. It was a Friday and Halloween eve. No one wanted to do work, just make it through the day so they could go home.

I grab my lunch tray and make my way to my usual table to see Pelle Ohlin. We had only exchanged a few words, he was a friend of a friend, but for some reason I thought he secretly didn’t like me. Always staying a good distance away from me, giving me weird looks. You know what I mean. I sit down to see Pelle now talking to Euronymous, my friend and his band member. It goes quiet. Euronymous briefly pats Pelle on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. What were they up to?

I see Pelle glancing at me in my preifereal view and try to ignore it. “H- hey y/n” Pelle says a pinkish tone now coming to his face. “Hi Pelle, what’s up?” I ask turning my body to face him. “O-oh uhm I was wondering what you were doing and all, since it’s like the day before Halloween” he blush deepens and he puts his hands on his face to try and hide it better. “Nothing much, I was going to watch a horror movie with my friends but they dipped and I’m not trying to watch that alone” I chuckle a bit embarrassed. ”Oh I mean I could watch it with you? I have nothing to do either..” he drags on awkwardly.

“You’d do that?” I look back at the ground, then at him. “Uhm- yeah if you want me to” he says his voice muffled by the sleeves of his shirt, he’s now resting on his arms. “Alright, I guess I’ll see you there?” I say getting up to throw my tray away, walking out of the lunch room. “Totally..” he mutters as I’m already gone, his blush now bright red. Euronymous chuckles, hearing the whole conversation, hitting Pelles shoulder playfully.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

A knock on my door startles me. I quickly open the door to see Pelle in a little more of a classy outfit then the one he wore to school. “Dude we’re watching a movie, why’re you dressed up?” I laugh pointing at his dress shirt and pants. “Oh uhm…I don’t know, I just thought I should dress up” I chuckle again. “You do you I guess” Pelle looks down at the ground, embarrassed. “Hey I didn’t mean it, I’m messing. Cmon in” I smile welcoming him in. He smiles back and looks around the living room. “Nice place you got” he says in a bit of awe. “Thanks, my parents are stuck at work for the holidays so I get the house as I please” he nods his head in acknowledgment, roaming a bit around the room.

“Hey, you wanna get the movie set up and I’ll get the snacks?” I ask glaring at him. He nods in response, choosing a movie as I am in the kitchen picking out snacks. “You don’t have any allergies do you?!” I shout from the kitchen, trying to shout over the popcorn popping. “Nope! Not any that I know of!” He yells back, chuckling after. The microwave goes off, I take the popcorn out and put it into a nice bowl. I come back with a few snacks and popcorn, grabbing two waters as well. “Can you get the blankets?” Pelle nods again, running over to my fabric closet and pulling out two soft blankets.

He hands me the softer one and takes the other. He sits down, us at a respectably distance from each other, the middle of the couch empty with space. I click start in the movie and get comfortable to watch. As the movie goes on there’s a few jumps here and there. But the tension in my body builds as the scene goes on. The now quiet moment after the woman has lost the killer.

The killer jumps out, the woman screams. I jump, practically jumping on Pelle. Hiding my face in his neck. Pelle pulls me away, looking at me dumbfounded. I blush embarrassedly as he looks at me. “Oh my god I’m so sorry-“ I say but I’m cut off by Pelles lips. My eyes widen in shock. I quickly get comfortable in the kiss, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around his neck.

After a few minutes I pull away for air. We look at each other panting, beads of sweat start to form on Pelles forehead. “Do you wanna…go all the way?” He asks cautiously. His eyes dilate just from thinking about him being intimate with me. I smile nervously. “If you want to” and that’s all I have to say before he tackles me in a kiss again.

His face flushing pink, he’s belly flips just looking at you..but him doing this to you..how’s he supposed to handle all of this? I smile coming in closer to him, pinning him to the couch. I pull away for a second “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to” I say to him but he just shakes his head. “No no I wanna make you feel good” he says grabbing my hips, pulling me in closer.

I jump as a scream from the TV goes. Pelle chuckles, rubbing the skin of my exposed hips. “Hey nothing can hurt you babydoll, it’s just you and me here. I will never let anyone or anything hurt you” he whispers pulling me onto his lap. I smile, blushing a bit.

Pelle smiles back and takes me into a kiss. The once innocent kiss starts to get dirty, and eventually turns into us making out. He holds onto me tighter pressing me against him. His tent in his pants pressing up against my stomach. His face goes red. I laugh into his mouth, making him chuckle back loosening his grip, becoming less nervous.

Pelle pulls away, looking up at me straight into my eyes. “Can I..uhm take these off?” he asks referring to clothes. “Why of course” I smirk slowly lifting up my shirt. As my shirt goes up halfway Pelle does the rest takes my shirt off and throws it on the coffee table. He quickly unclips my bra and stops for a moment, taking in my figure. He then latches onto one of my breasts, groping the other one with his hand while the other is still on my hip.

I gasp as his tongue laps around my nipple. I can feel the bruises start to form on me from his hard grip, but I don't care enough to tell him to stop. Pelle sucks on the sensitive bits of my chest, going up and down the surface making me moan out. He creates small markings, not super huge but big enough to be prominent on my skin. Pelle takes his time with me, coating my chest in his saliva.

He pulls away from my chest, a string of spit following his path. He smiles, his lips glistening from his own salvation. “You're so beautiful,” he says before pulling my pants down painfully slow. “Last chance to back out my love,” he says, his brown eyes reaching my soul. “I'm ready,” I say putting my hands on his soft face, my hands gliding over his defined jawline.

Pelle lowers my underwear. His breathing speeds up, so close to the thing he's wanted for years. To think that his dream of being with you was about to materialize is driving him insane. My underwear is now completely off. Pelle groans impatiently taking off his boxers. His member twitches. Pelle places his hands on my hips once again, hovering me over his lap angling me perfectly before pushing in.

Pelle throws his back on the couch as we groan in sync. This wasn't my first time but I've never had anything quite like Pelles, thick and with a good length. What was I thinking before him? He stays like this for a bit, getting used to the feeling. “You feel better than I thought you'd be” he grunts starting to slowly go in and out, making a rhythm that feels good for the both of us. He speeds up, using my waist for support, his hands digging into me.

I moan, the stinging pain of his nails soon turning into pleasure. He mumbles and rambles as he goes in and out of me at a steady pace. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this” he says, blush starting to creep up to his cheeks and ears. I try to respond but I only grunt, being too focused in this moment to talk. People rolls his hips into my pussy making me moan into the nook of his neck.

Pelle is starting to slow down from exhaustion, as it was his first time ever doing something like this, but he wanted to pleasure you. After a bit Pelles legs start to shake tiredly. I put my hands on his chest, pinning him to the couch stopping him from rolling his hips. “Let me help, ok? Just relax sweetheart” Pelle nods relaxing into the couch a bit as I start to move around him. Pelle puts his head in my neck, holding onto my waist again. I start to pick up the pace, grinding on him, our hips crashing into each other as I feel a burning sensation in my abdomen.

Pelle whimpers, starting to pick me up and slowly drop me on his cock. I moan fully taking him in as I slowly fall to his base. Pelle then starts to pick me up and put me down on his cock harder and faster. I soon get used to the rhythm, rocking on his cock at the same pace. “Fuck! Y/n” Pelle says in my neck, giving it a few bites before relentlessly fucking me up and down on his cock. Echos of the movie comes from the TV but I am now too occupied to care.

Pelle and I moan in sync once more, not being able to control the sounds between us any longer. The sound of skin slapping becomes louder and louder by the second as Pelle speeds up. Precum and my slick become the perfect lubricant, letting Pelle slide in and out of me effortlessly. I rock harder on Pelles cock, our hips crashing into one another as we both reach the edge together. Pelles hot cum goes deep inside me, sending shivers down my spine.

As we come down from our own climaxes Pelle slips in and out of me a few more times before completely stopping to catch his breath. “Could we stay like this for the rest of the night?” He asks referring to being inside me. I chuckle. “If you want to I guess” Pelle smiles, kissing my shoulder. “I’m so glad I decided to watch this movie with you” he says admiringly. “Me too” I smile pulling him in for a kiss.

The ending was a little rushed but I hope u dudes liked it !! Thank you again for all the requests, I appreciate them <3

Taglist:

╰┈➤@mxqlss @slavicb-tch3s @bkaulitzz

[blueberrypancakesworld]

hellooooo!! may i request a poly! mayhem/black circle (dead is alive) x fem reader who is a mix of black metal/gothic but sweet and bit of a bimbo?? like all of them are hungover from a black circle party and she makes them breakfast and takes care of them and everything??? 🤍🩷

A shiny and sweet morning

warning : fluff, kissing, comfort

Info : Helllloooo dear anon of course you can request such a thing I hope you like this fluffy sweety thing and everyone have fun reading ;)

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actrs who play a role, not the real events

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

In Norway the mornings in winter were cold and foggy, in spring the sun hung behind the clouds and only in summer the morning was surprisingly bright and pleasantly warm.

A warmth from the sun's rays that came into the young woman's room, the chirping of birds and nature through her roommate's open, demolished window.

Slowly opening her eyes, she wiped the sleep from her eyes as she looked at the clock. ,,Well, let's make the boys something to eat," she mumbled and got out of bed.

She knew it was morning, knew that the boys had all been partying late into the night in the music store and had then found their way back here more badly than right. The smell of beer and grass, of smoke and fire hung in the house, but that would soon change.

The longer black fingernails with the slight silver glitter reached into her closet and picked out a dress, the puffy white underdress with frills was rounded off by the black, thinner outer dress and a belt with small bows.

Sitting back on the bed, she gently and carefully pulled up the white knee-high socks so as not to damage the thin material and tied her hair up in a bow, which was a little wild from sleep.

The sweet young woman, preoccupied in the darkness, walked out of her room and peeked into the hallway, seeing that most of the doors were closed or slightly open from not closing due to the drug and alcohol influence. ,,Like a bat" she mused with a grin as she saw Dead and Euronymous lying on the mattress and coffin with their heads propped up on the floor.

The two of them looked like two oversized bats because of the runny makeup but the picture was cute and she wanted to grin and make a mental note that she had to take a picture of it next time.

That as she walked on and the bunch of Faust, Occoltus and Varg had thrown themselves together on the beanbag, the youngest of the three had the odd disturbing thought and a hand to horrofilem them both with one hand in his arms she held tightly even in her sleep.

,,The iron maiden and her captives," she murmured jokingly and continued down the corridor, almost running over the two of them.

Hellhammer and Necrobutcher leaning against each other, ,,Two mad bears with a hangover," she joked, shaking her head lightly as she tried to escape the crack of the wood from the stairs and quickly made her way to the kitchen.

She was thankful to all her lovers that they were all fiddling in the music store and not here in the house she took care of besides her job as a reporter because she brought the good news to the "hip youngsters" as her boss always called it by giving news and updates on the band once a week and writing an article.

Which was sometimes a bit of a challenge, considering her fingernails and the way her breasts pressed against the keldi. But as it was now, she was coping with everything.

The little light in the kitchen was slightly amplified by the lamp, so she turned on the stove and took the things from the fridge.

,,Goodness gracious, we're almost out of everything," she muttered and took out the remaining eggs, a few slices of ham and sausage as well as fruit and salad.

She put what she wanted to cut up on a board and started cutting away the already moldy part while listening to the latest song from her band playing on the cassette.

Humming along, she swung through the kitchen as best she could, taking care of the scrambled eggs, the salad, the meat and the few cereals with milk.

She set out the plates and cutlery and decided to stop the coffee and not give the men any beer for the time being.

She didn't want another mess. Minutes passed and it had taken her about half an hour to do everything here.

A glance at the clock told her it was time to wake the boys. Pulling the small pocket mirror out of her clothes pocket, she pulled the shimmering, strawberry-scented lip gloss over her lips before she was ready to wake her pack.

Humming happily, she opened the windows in one room after the other, letting in fresh air and the house slowly began to smell of nature and coffee, of something tart that wasn't beer and dorgen.

,,Wake up, gentlemen of hell!" She shouted through the corridors as she knocked on Euronymous and Dead's door, brushing a few tangled strands of hair out of their faces, and the black-haired man's ,,Mhhh too soon" was met with a gentle kiss, causing him to rise slowly.

,,Thank you sweetie," the band founder murmured, letting his gaze wander over her and smiling slightly as he made his way downstairs.

She heard him on his way down, but the three of them fell over Hellhammer and Necrobutcher as they went crashing down the stairs and the sound of cursing filled the house. ,,Day?" she heard the soft voice of the blond who was suddenly standing behind her, his make-up still smudged.

,,Yes, Day... my little zombie," she said and briefly took his hand before she started to pull him behind her to get him to eat, which he didn't do very well anyway.

While the five of them were eating and she had given Hellhammer and Necrobutcher a cold pack, she went back upstairs to hell the last three.

,,Fresh coffee," she murmured and held out a cup to the three sitting on the beanbag, which slowly worked wonders.

Varg took the cup with just coffee, Faust the one with two sugars and Occultus the cup with more milk than coffee.

,,Thank you, darling," the three of them trilled and gave her a quick hug before they all gathered downstairs and the large group squeezed around the table.

She had a cheerful smile on her lips when she saw that the boys were enjoying their meal despite the headache they had all taken a pill for.

,,That's great," she heard from Occoltus, who scooped another heap of egg onto his plate, and a ,,You're the best mommy," from Hellhammer, who winked at her, knowing full well what he was alluding to.

But they all knew what the brown-haired one was getting at, but it didn't bother anyone, she was there for each of her sweeties and always would be. ,,Always happy for my little devils," she replied and sat down at the table before taking her first well-earned sip of coffee.

She was happy when she saw the many relieved faces and received her rewarding kisses.

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