#oystein x reader

-

oystein "euronymous" aarseth

i soooo feel like he'd be the most jumpy and like paranoid about it

he'd prob full on scream or like yelp (lol) and clutch his pearls anytime he'd see you peaking around a corner or like standing as still as possible in the dark

i think, at first, he'd think its a little funny

the first time it happened, he was going to the fridge to grab a drink late in the night... probably around like 2 am.

he'd be half asleep, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he trudged to the fridge, grabbed his drink, turned around, and boom! there you were, just barely peeking around the edge of the fridge door, eyes wide, not moving, not blinking.

"jesus fucking christ!" he actually jumped. like foot flew off the ground. he almost dropped his drink lol

then he let out a laugh, trying to calm his heart literally beating hundreds of mph in his ribcage, "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

you stepped around the door as he shut it, smiling, but looking confused, "what are you talking about?"

he squinted at you, looking equally as confused as you did. he scoffed, "you know exactly what i'm talking about..." he was still smiling, but his brows were furrowed, "you were standing there like a ghost or something."

"i literally just walked in here? you're imagining things!" you turned around, waving him off as you made your way back to bed.

the second time... he was making his way down the hallway and he could just feel it... that heavy feeling of being watched. it stopped him dead in his tracks

you stood at the end of the hallway, half covered by the shadow... just standing

he froze for a second, and then let out a sigh when he realized it was you. "oh, come on! not again!"

he walked up to you, flicking your forehead. "you're having wayyy too much fun with this."

you cocked your eyebrow, feigning innocence. "i was just getting water. why are you being so weird?" you walked away before he could reply lol

he just stood there, dumbfounded.

after the third/fourth time it happened he began to start side-eyeing every corner, shadow, etc.

"i know its you there you little shit"

"idk what you're talking about???"

-

pelle "dead" ohlin

pelle would def out freak you i cannot lie LOL

he carries around dead animals and shit, he is like the last person i fear i'd EVER do this to...

he'd be sooo calm about it. you'd think you were scaring him but then he just stares at you all bug eyed and just says "i see you."

the first time you tried, he was on the couch minding his own

you snuck in and crept in the space between the couch and the wall, and stood there behind him, barely breathing.

after like 5 minutes you were honestly tired of just standing there and were ready to give up.

thats when he turned his head ever so slowly, looking at you with the most wide eyed blank expression, ever. dead stare. (no pun intended...) "what are you doing?"

his gaze honestly made your stomach drop. "um." (keep it up!! don't back down!!) "what are you talking about?"

you smiled awkwardly, and shuffled from behind the couch, just as awkwardly.

"you're an awful liar." he smiled to himself, dropping his bug-eyed expression, and returned to what he was doing.

the second time, you hid in the wardrobe.

you had the door slightly ajar, and your head peaked through the crack

you swore you waited maybe an hour until he finally noticed you...

when he FINALLY made eye contact with you through the crack, he just smiled and waved, as if it was nothing(????)

you stepped out, mildly offended tbf...

"i was trying to scare you..."

"yeah i know."

he just smiled at you, almost proud.

the third time, things flipped.

you were planning on hiding in the bathroom at night, peering out from the shower curtain in the dark.

pelle was out at practice, and you knew he usually used the bathroom once he came home

the second you opened the curtain, however, there it was.

staring you dead in your face.

a dead crow...

VERY dead... (maggots, the stench, etc...)

it was like he knew you'd be there.

you swore thats maybe the loudest you've ever screamed in your life

sooo that ended your little shtick prettyyyy quickly

-

bard "faust" eithun

faust is nooooot a fan. not a fan at all.

the first time you scared him, he was leaving the bathroom, still half draped with a towel and ever soooo tired from the late night.

you'd tucked yourself around the corner, and leaned out just enough where the morning light hit your face just right

the second he saw you he jumped so hard that he nearly fell backwards, slamming his shoulder into the wall in the process.

"what the fuck is wrong with you??"

you stepped out, feigning innocence, and seeming more concerned about his shoulder than anything.

you didn't really expect him to injure himself... oops.

"oh my god are you okay?"

he stared at you, pursed lips and wide eyes. he was haphazardly holding his towel up with one hand, and his other was outstretched in a "wtf???" sort of way

"why were you standing there like that? you scared the shit out of me!"

"i've literally been in the bedroom this whole time?" you pointed to the ajar door behind you, "i heard you run into the wall, and came to check on you."

faust's mouth dropped open, as if he was going to say something, and then he just pushed past you.

you heard him curse under his breath as he stormed away.

the second time was lowkey even better...

faust was walking through the dark living room at night, making his way over to turn on the lamp.

you were standing completely still by the bookshelf

faust pulled down the chain to click on the light, and the second he saw you he let out such a loud shriek

without even thinking, he reached down and grabbed a pillow, tossing it at you

you caught it as it hit your chest, "oh my god are you okay?"

he sat down in defeat on the couch, his head resting in his hands. "stop doing that shit!"

you cocked an eyebrow, looking at him like you had no clue wtf he was talking about "umm? i was grabbing my book?"

he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you dumbfounded "i literally saw you. you were standing there."

you reached up, grabbing a random book to make your case more plausible. "oystein said you've been smoking too much..." you mumbled as you pushed past him. "maybe you should slow down."

he watched you walk away, then looked around the room as if there was some imaginary crowd watching you two

"what the literal fuck...?"

from that point, anytime he suspected you were about to scare him again, he would just chase you away, threatening to "throw your scary ass out the window"

-

stian "occultus" johannsen

oookay so i think this ended pretty quickly :')

you were staring at him through the crack of the office door.

he was pretty occupied working at his desk

you swore you stood there for maybe an hour at this point...

FINALLY, he arose from the chair and in his daze, he was rubbing his eyes, and walked through the door

which inturn, meant he walked straight into you

he stumbled over you, sort of stepping on your hand as he fell into the wall across the door

"oh my god, are you okay???"

"yeah im fine! dude are you okay??"

"yeah omg i didn't even know you were there."

"umm i was just walking down the hall? wym?"

so atleast you got to girlboss gaslight!

Euronymous If it was just the two of you in your shared apartment (as opposed to his bunk at Helvete), and Øystein found you curled up, napping in bed, he'd chuckle under his breath and nestle himself behind you. He'd get himself situated, spooning you and burying his face in the back of your neck. This fucker absolutely loves cuddling and he'd end up wrapped around you so tightly that when you wake up, you won't be able to get out of bed until he wakes up and is convinced to let you go after some grumbling and whining.

Ollie Sway - The Song of Sway Lake If Ollie came home and found you napping, especially if you were wearing one of his shirts, he would just die. He'd crawl into bed with you so eagerly that he'd probably wake you up while trying to get cuddled up to you, then shush you and tell you to go back to sleep, pulling you into his chest while apologizing for waking you up.

Clyde - Electrick Children If Clyde found you napping in his bed during the day, I think he'd stand guard by the door to make sure that nobody wakes you up. His 'apartment' really isn't the quietest place with the most considerate tenants, so he'd be worried about someone bursting in and waking you up, especially if you really needed the sleep.

Charlie Walker - Scream 4 If anyone on this list is gonna watch you sleep, it's gonna be Charlie. I can totally see him pulling up a chair and watching for a while before eventually crawling under the blankets with you. He can't help himself. You just look so soft and vulnerable when you're asleep, and he rarely gets to see you looking so peaceful.

Danny Cooper - Intruders Danny Boy would melt if he saw you curled up, taking a midday nap in his bed. I think he'd just let you sleep and check on you every few minutes, poking his head in to make sure you're still sleeping soundly while he quietly wanders around the apartment cleaning up and getting a little snack ready for you when you wake up.

Jack Thurlow - Jack Goes Home I think that if you're dating and living with Jack, you're probably really used to falling asleep alone and waking up with him next to you. I think he'd be considerate about not waking you up and would just drape an arm over your waist if he wanted to sleep too.

Mike - 5lbs of Pressure I can picture the way that Mikey's breath would hitch in his throat if he found you sleeping in his bed. Mostly, it's the cutest thing he's ever seen, but he's also glad that you feel safe enough in his room to just fall asleep like that. He'd be tripping over himself to get next to you and lie there listening to your peaceful, soft breathing while looking up at the ceiling with a goofy smile on his face.

Gabriel - Gabriel (2014) Sweet boy Gabe would be so careful not to wake you up. He'd probably spend a good few minutes pacing, trying to decide whether or not he should risk waking you up by getting into bed with you. He wants to. Of course, he does, more than anything, but he'd overthink it for sure. If he did decide to risk it, he'd move so slowly and carefully that it would probably take him an hour to settle.

You’d become a bit of a project to Oystein.

He’d seen you for the first time just outside Helvete on a Sunday morning. Usually, he wouldn’t be caught dead being awake before noon unless he had something important going on. Most days, Faust just opened the doors to the shop at ten and let him keep sleeping, running the store on his own.

You’d been dressed in your Sunday best, on your way back from church in your frilly white dress when he spotted you through the window. A customer had wanted to listen to a record as soon as the doors opened, and had subsequently woken an annoyed Oystein.

He’d figured that he’d change the display in the windows since he was up, and had noticed you glancing over with a curious look.

Oystein knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that he needed to have you. To turn that white filly dress into black leather and chains. To have you worship him instead of the god you so clearly believed in. To ruin you.

He didn’t say anything that first day, but, the following Sunday, he was up, bright and early, chain smoking against the wall out front of the store.

Sure enough, following the flood of churchgoers clutching their pearls when they noticed him standing there, was you.

You’d hung back quite a bit.

By the time you were walking past the store, the well dressed crowd was long gone. Oystein found himself wondering if you even realized you’d separated yourself from them. Like you knew, deep in your heart that you didn’t belong with them but couldn’t quite understand why yet.

You looked just as curious and innocent as you had the week before. As you breezed pat, you took notice of him, steps faltering momentarily as you tilted your head to one side, looking like a confused puppy.

No introduction was made on that day either.

And so, every Sunday, Oystein found himself outside the store. Sometimes with a cigarette, others with a beer, he waited for you.

You continued to hang back from the others. Kept staring, growing more and more blatant about your interest each time until finally, after two months of patience that even Oystein hadn’t known he possessed, you crossed the street and stopped in front of the doors.

He made no moves to hide the satisfied smirk on his face when you asked him what kind of store it was. You’d been so polite about it too. Said ‘excuse me’ and everything, as if you didn’t already have his attention, when you approached him for the first time.

Oystein had happily told you that it was his shop, and that he sold music.

You told him that you hadn’t listened to a lot of music growing up. That you’d only recently moved to Oslo on your own and that your parents hadn’t kept music around when you lived with them.

You asked if he sold what your father had referred to as ‘that devil music’. Only, you didn’t look afraid, or even nervous. Your big doe eyes just shined bright with curiosity as you toyed with the silver cross dangling from a chain around your neck.

Oystein pictured himself resting it on your tongue and telling you to suck on it while he split you open on his cock. He’d been so distracted that he never ended up answering your question.

You didn’t go inside the store that day.

Or the Sunday after that.

But, two weeks later, you crossed the street again and asked him, oh so nicely, if you could go inside and look around.

How could he refuse you?

Faust had looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind when he saw Oystein walking you into Helvete. You were far too overwhelmed by all the black paint and satanic album covers to catch the sharp look he’d shot the younger boy. Faust had curled into his little corner soon after.

You kept making these little gasping sounds whenever you laid eyes on a particularly revolting album cover, but didn’t flee like he’d half expected you to.

The cross was tightly gripped in your hand as you walked through the store, enough so that it had left divots in your palm for hours afterwards.

Oystein found it incredibly alluring.

When he asked you if you wanted to listen to something, he was surprised to hear a soft, but sure, ‘yes’.

You picked an album at random and handed it off to him and had jumped a foot in the air when loud music started blaring through the shop’s sound system.

You’d lasted halfway through the first track before you were running out the door.

Oystein did a poor job hiding his disappointment and wondered if he’d ever see you again.

You were back the next day with a determined look on your face and a little coin purse clutched tightly in your fist.

Then again, two days later after you’d left with an album you’d plucked off the shelves at random, not even bothering to look at the cover.

Oystein managed to keep you around for a couple hours, standing as close to you as he possibly could in an effort to get you used to him brushing up against you while he answered all your questions about metal music in general.

You seemed to be fascinated by the genre more than you were enjoying it, but he’d take what he could get so long as he got to be near you.

You started popping in more often, always dressed modestly in pale, muted colors. Slowly, Oystein started increasing the physical contact, resting a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the doors, or brushing up against you while reaching for an album.

He knew when he heard you curse for the first time that he had you where he wanted you.

Kissing you had been a gamble that had payed off after a late night questioning that had resulted in the two of you being alone in the store long after closing. You’d been perched on the front counter with Oystein standing between your legs. He’d gotten you so used to him touching you that you hadn’t thought anything of it.

But then, he’d surged forwards and held you by the back of the neck, enveloping your lips with his own.

You hadn’t pushed him away, and he didn’t want to overdo it, so he pulled back after only a few seconds, scanning your face for some kind of reaction.

You’d mostly looked stunned at first, cheeks flushed and warm to the touch. Your lips were still parted in shock and your eyes were wide, but you snapped out of it eventually and shyly ducked down to peck him on the lips once.

It hadn’t been hard to get you out on a date after that. You’d been raised with the idea that you’d one day meet a boy and start going steady with him. Despite Oystein very much not fitting the image that your parents wanted for you, there was a level of thrill to it.

He started putting ideas in your head about organized religion. Little comments here and there about manipulation and brainwashing. You didn’t seem to catch on that both of things applied when it came to your new relationship.

The two of you spent a full month going no further than kissing. Oystein was damn near losing his mind, fucking his fist every night after he’d walked you home, picturing you on your knees for him with his cock in your mouth. 

He’d eventually worked his way up to heavy petting, then a little under the clothes action, learning what made you tick and getting you wound up enough that you were getting close to begging him to do more.

And, eventually, you did.

It took two more months to get you naked. Then a week to make you fall in love with the feeling of his fingers buried deep inside you. You’d whined and whined that you wanted ore, only you didn’t know what, until he got his mouth on you. Then your mouth on him.

A full six months after he’d seen you for the first time, you asked Oystein to fuck you.

He’d been so gentle with you the first time.

The second time, he teased you for so long that you were begging him to fuck you hard and fast.

He’d ease you into depravity slowly. Starting with a tug on your hair or a hand loosely resting against your throat, then eventually turning into you being cuffed to the headboard of on your knees under the counter while customers roamed the store.

It had taken him longer than he’d originally thought it might. But Oystein had gotten what he wanted.

You.

Your eyes traveled up the leather sleeve wrapped around the arm reaching for your beer and found yourself scowling.

Of course, it had to be him.

Oystein had a way of appearing at the worst possible moments like he was born to annoy the living shit out of you.

You thought about letting him have the beer. Just walking away like you knew you should. But, the lazy smirk he shot your way as his fingers wrapped around the glass bottle had your upper lip twitching into a snarl.

Without having to think, you snatched it out of his hand and jumped back a step

"It's always you." He huffed, raking a hand through his long hair "You're just fucking everywhere, aren't you?"

"You sure you're not stalking me or something?" You scoffed, hopping up on the counter, beer in hand, looking smug.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Oystein sneered, slowly taking menacing steps forward. "You think I want to be in the same room as you? I can't stand you."

"Well, asshole. The feeling's mutual." You rolled your eyes, fumbling with the bottle opener.

You didn't expect him to nestle himself in between your legs, one hand on each side of the counter as he caged you in with a hateful look.

Without looking away from you, He got the bottle cap off the rest of the way and snatched it out of your hand.

You cursed your traitorous cunt for clenching around nothing, watching him take a slow, long sip of your beer.

You swiped at the air, but missed and somehow ended up with his hand clutching your jaw, forcing your mouth open.

You glared at him, but didn't struggle, a little curious as to what he was up to.

"You wanted it so fucking bad." He poured the beer down your throat until the bottle was empty. "Should be thanking me."

"Fuck you." You gasped for air, beer spilling down the sides of your mouth as you tried to swallow the last sip.

"You know." His eyes darkened, bouncing from you to the beer bottle "That's not a bad idea."

Your brows pulled together, not understanding until his fingers were suddenly pulling your panties to the side and the cool glass top of the beer bottle was being rubbed down your slit.

"What are you doing?" Your eyes widened.

"I think you know." He smirked, slow and cocky, like he was enjoying every second of your squirming.

"Oystein," Your tone was warning, but your voice wavered at the end, like you couldn't decide if you were serious.

"I'm not hearing a no." He taunted, circling your entrance with the bottle. "Last chance to say something. But you won't will you?"

You bit your tongue, pissed that he was right.

"That's what I thought." he pushed it into you, just an inch or so, and reveled in the low, broken moan that escaped your throat "You're just a filthy little whore, aren't you?"

Before you could answer, he rammed it into you abruptly until the swell of the tapered bottle was flush with your swollen lips and you gasped for breath.

"You'd probably let me fuck you with anything, wouldn't you, princess?" he cooed condescendingly.

You hated that this was working. That your cunt was gushing around that damned beer bottle and his words were making your insides flex.

"Bet I could make you beg for it like a good little slut."

"Shut up." You spat through gritted teeth, finger nails digging into his biceps as they flexed with every thrust of the bottle.

"Should make you take the whole thing." He groaned, swatting your hands away so he could crouch down in front of the counter to watch the neck of the bottle disappear inside your greedy pussy, easing it in just a little further with every harsh jab. "What do I care if your hole's all stretched out for the next asshole? I'm not gonna use it again after tonight? might as well ruin that tight little snatch of yours."

The bottle withdrew so suddenly that you whined from the empty feeling.

You looked down at him with narrowed eyes, tracking him as he stood over you, gazing down with dark lust in his eyes. Like you were prey and he was about to devour you.

Oystein smacked the bottle down on the counter next to you so hard that you were surprised it didn't break, undoing his belt the second his hand was free.

"Gonna split you open on my cock first." He freed himself from his jeans and yanked your hips to the edge of the counter roughly. "Need to see you crying on my dick one last time."

"God, you're such an asshole." You snapped, but it came out too breathy "I've never cried on your dick, you cocky little shit."

"You sure about that, Princess?" He cooed, hooking your knees over his arms, lifting you off the counter by the waist so he could line himself up.

oh god.

You knew exactly what was coming because, yes, you were full of shit. He'd fucked you so hard that you'd had tears streaming down your cheeks more times than you could count and every time started just like this.

You braced your forearms on his shoulders in a last ditch effort to slow him down, but you knew that it was no use.

"Oystein, I swear to god." You whimpered, squirming in his grip when you felt his ruddy tip notch into your entrance.

"oops." You could hear the smirk in his voice when he let you go, allowing your body weight to drive you right onto his waiting cock as hard as possible.

"Fuck!" You yelped, arms and legs wrapped around him, trying to pull yourself up. to get some kind of relief from the overwhelming pressure against your cervix.

Tears were prickling behind your eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry." he pouted teasingly "Did that hurt?"

"Fuck you." you growled into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to hurt.

"You crying yet, sweetheart?"

"no." You lied, but your voice came out strained.

"Sure about that?" He bounced you, driving his cock back into you just as hard as the first time.

You just whimpered, clinging to his shoulders.

"could stop if you wanted to." He bounced you again, working up a brutal rhythm this time while you made pretty little sounds next to his ear "But you don't, do you, princess? You like it when I hurt you. When I treat you like the little worthless slut that you are."

You didn't dignify him with a response, because yes. You got off on this kind of thing and you both knew it too well to even bother.

He was only being slightly rougher than he was when the two of you were still together, obviously driven by his underlying hatred for you.

You didn't mind. If anything, it was better this way. Knowing that he truly meant every degrading word made your cunt clench around his glistening length.

Your nails were drawing blood on his back, tearing into the skin purposefully in an effort to get back at him in some way. To make sure that he'd feel it for days after, just like you would while you nursed your bruised cervix when this was all over.

He pulled back, just enough to see your brows pinched together in pain and the warm tears spilling from your eyes.

"Lying, stubborn, little bitch," He panted in between thrusts, licking the tears off your cheeks with a feral look in his eye.

Your whines increased in pitch, high and mewling as your walls fluttered around him despite your attempt at starving it off.

"Oh-ho!" Oystein chuckled breathily, driving into you even harder "You gonna cum? You getting off on the pain, sweetheart?"

You shook your head, but buried your face into the crook of his neck, muffling your cries when you finally shattered in his arms.

Without pulling out of you, Oystein lowered you both to the floor, holding you down so that he was still bullying your poor hole as deep as possible.

"What was that about never crying on my dick?" He cocked his head to the side, smug as ever while he shifted so that he was on top of you, hips pressed flush against your ass.

"Fuck you." You spat, attempting a glare, but unable to manage it in your fucked out state.

You weren't expecting him to spit on your face.

You flinched when you felt it on your cheek, rapidly cooling as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

"You fucking asshole!" You shrieked, slapping his chest as hard as you could manage.

Oystein just smirked at you, eyes full of something dark and predatory.

"Don't worry princess, I'm almost done with you." He sneered, manhandling you into turning around, face down, ass up on the kitchen tile for him, before plunging back into you in one hard stroke.

"Fuck, that's it." he slammed into you at a brutal, punishing pace, bruising your cervix with every long, hard stroke while you writhed beneath him, caught between the troves of pain and pleasure, still reeling from your orgasm. "Just a fucking hole."

"You're gonna take my load like a good little cum whore and I'm gonna make sure you don't waste a goddamn drop." He snapped his hips forward, teetering over the edge, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

"Fuck!" He groaned loudly, hoarse and drawn out as he pumped you full of cum, sure to make sure he was deep inside your twitching cunt as humanly possible.

You could barely think while he caught his breath, slumped over on the tile, hips only being supported by his bruising grip.

Oystein looped an arm around your waist and held you there while he slipped out of you, sure to keep your hips angle high enough not to allow his seed to spill out of you.

You didn't see him reach for the beer bottle, but you certainly felt it when he slid it into your cunt as far as he could get it, forcing it in past the tapered swell of the bottle, effectively plugging his cum deep inside you and leaving two inches of the bottle's base protruding from your spent hole before walking out of the kitchen without a word.

You’d been living in your little apartment since you’d left home at eighteen and considered the space sacred. It was your happy place, and you cherished it deeply. 

The storefront below you had been an apothecary when you’d moved in five years ago. It had been part of the appeal of living on that particular street corner in Oslo. The smell of the herbs and tinctures had brought you comfort in a time when you needed it. 

It hadn’t lasted very long. A couple of years at the most before the little old man who owned it packed everything up and moved the store to the other side of town, where he’d get more foot traffic. You’d liked the shop owner. He used to sit out on the curb with you in the mornings while you smoked your first cigarette of the day. It was usually right before he opened, so he’d light his own and tell you stories about his youth while the two of you smoked in the cool morning breeze. 

After he’d moved out, there was a two-year period where a multitude of clothing stores came and went, all run by bigger companies whose employees weren’t nearly as friendly as the little old man had been. They had been good neighbours, at the very least. 

Then, the store had sat empty for nearly a year before a raven-haired metalhead, who went by the name “Euronymous”, turned it into a record shop. 

You’d gone in and introduced yourself, just as you had with every other tenant who had rented the space, but hadn’t expected the immediate narrow-eyed look of suspicion and judgment on his face. The first thing that came out of his mouth was some variation of ‘this doesn’t look like your scene, why are you in here?’ in a snarky, unwelcoming tone. 

The younger-looking brown-haired boy behind the counter had snickered, shaking his head in amusement as he disappeared from view behind the counter. 

“I live upstairs.” You’d frowned, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “Just wanted to say hi, but if that’s how you talk to everyone who walks in here, you’re gonna be out of business in the next few months, so I no longer see the point.”

You turned on your heel and walked out the door before he could open his mouth with a retort, stomping up the stairs on the side of the building. 

The second you sat down on your couch with a huff, music started blaring from below. 

It was so loud that it must’ve been deafening in the store. 

He’d done it on purpose, just to irritate you. You were sure of it.

You held a pillow over your face and screamed into it out of frustration.  

The following morning, you sat on the curb, same as you always did, and jumped out of your skin when Euronymous stepped out of the shop in nothing but a pair of briefs. You were pretty sure he hadn’t seen you considering he immediately pissed on the sidewalk, luckily a good ten feet away from your spot and facing the opposite direction, while you stared in shock. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered loud enough for him to hear. 

He whipped around and looked down at you, looking equally shocked. 

You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down his toned chest and stomach before darting back up to his eyes. 

“Did you just watch me piss?” He had this little smirk on his face that annoyed the shit out of you immediately. “See anything you like, sweetheart?” 

“Are you living in the fucking store?” You asked, pulling yourself to your feet. 

“Maybe.” He shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking. “You got a problem with that?” 

“It’s really none of my business what you do with your store.” You crossed your arms over your chest, taking a drag from your dwindling smoke “It’d be nice if you didn’t piss on the sidewalk though, I sit out here sometimes.” 

“Maybe you just shouldn’t sit out here, then,” Euronymous told you, squinting. “It’s in front of my store. You start sitting out here, people are gonna think I’ve got posers hanging around. It's bad for business.” 

“I’ve sat out here every day for five years.” You argued, frowning, “I live here.” 

“Well, so do I.” He retorted. “Maybe I wanna piss on the whole sidewalk.” 

You felt anger flare deep in your belly and had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cussing him out and making things even more tense. 

You nodded tightly and brushed past him on your way back to the stairs, careful to avoid the puddle of fresh piss he’d left. 

Initially, the music only blared during the store hours. That you could live with. 

You were at work for most of the day anyway, and once you’d gotten used to it, you could drown it out for the most part. 

But then, it started stretching into the night. 

You’d given up your spot on the sidewalk that same day you and Euronymous had exchanged words, in favor of the windowsill just above the shop door. You’d done it to avoid conflict, and here he went blasting music until eleven o’clock?

The next time you saw him outside, you called down to him from the window. 

“Hey, fuckhead!” You probably shouldn’t have started the interaction like that, but you were so beyond annoyed. 

He looked up at you with a furrowed brow that relaxed into a scowl once he saw who was yelling at him. 

“Can you chill with the fucking music at night?” you asked, looking irate “It’s driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Then move.” He shrugged, shooting you that infuriating little smirk before ducking back inside. 

That night, he left the music on for an extra hour. 

Then two the following night. 

After a week, it was stretching into the early hours of the morning, and you were nearing your boiling point. 

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and brought it out to the window with you, sipping at the quickly cooling liquid in the frigid morning air. 

You heard the bell downstairs chime and watched Euronymous step out onto the sidewalk. 

As if your brain was moving on autopilot, you dipped your finger into the cup, made sure that it wasn’t too hot, and poured your entire cup of coffee out the window and directly over his head. 

“What the fuck!” He shouted, immediately jumping into the street, wiping the lukewarm coffee from his eyes so he could look up at you. 

“Did you just pour coffee on me?” He jabbed a finger in your direction angrily. “You fucking bitch!” 

You could see his nostrils flaring even from all the way upstairs. 

“Oops.” You shrugged, maintaining his stare with a straight face. “Must be the lack of sleep getting to me.” 

“You’re about to get a whole lot less of it,” He yelled, rushing back into the store. 

This time, the music didn’t stop. 

Twenty-four hours a day, Euronymous blasted music without turning it down a single notch. 

The only good thing that came out of it was knowing that he couldn’t possibly be sleeping either and he’d stopped pissing outside since the coffee shower you’d given him. 

You made it four days before the exhaustion turned into rage that burned so hot that it sent you flying down the stairs and into the shop at three in the morning. 

You were too angry to question the door being unlocked when you slammed it open. He was standing behind the counter, looking as tired as you felt, blinking at you while you seethed just inside the shop. 

Your eyes landed on the record player across the room, and you beelined for it, yanking the cord from the wall socket as soon as you spotted it, halting the music abruptly. You sighed in relief.

Before you could even turn around or enjoy the quiet for a minute, you felt strong hands wrap around your wrists and slam them against the wall above your head, pinning you in place, inches away from Euronymous’ face, red with anger. 

“Do you know how expensive that fucking sound system is?” He growled, eyes boring down into yours, full of hatred “I swear to fuck if you damaged it. I’m gonna kill you.” 

“At this point,” You scoffed, squirming in his grip “I’d fucking let you, I’m so fucking tired that I don’t even care!” 

His hands tightened around your wrists. 

“You are the most insufferable, unreasonable, irritating fucking asshole I’ve ever met in my life!” You ranted angrily “I can’t fucking stand you!” 

“You think you’re so easy to be around?” He snarled, so close to you that you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face. “Pouring coffee on me and yammering about your poor sidewalk?” 

“Those were both isolated incidents caused by you a dick.” You pointed out, unable to deny that in your sleep-deprived state, you were finding this increasingly hot. 

“Maybe because my bitch neighbour is always up my ass about everything,” Euronymous muttered, a lot softer, but just as annoyed. His eyes darted down to your lips before licking his own. 

You really weren't sure who moved first, but your lips collided brutally in a hungry, desperate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth in between heavy breathing, seemingly deafening as the music had been in the quiet, empty store. 

He let go of your hands and started clawing at your clothes while you did the same, allowing him to shove the straps of your tank top down your arms roughly, freeing your tits from the confines of the soft fabric while you worked his belt. Before you could get it all the way undone, he manhandled your breasts so roughly that it hurt, and you yelped, letting go of the studded black leather. 

“Ow, fuck you!” You muttered into his mouth, still kissing him. 

“Shut up.” He growled, shoving his hand down the front of your pyjama shorts while your tanktop remained bunched up just under your tits. 

With no warning, he shoved a finger deep inside of you, chuckling darkly to himself. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Euronymous grabbed a hold of your hair wth his free hand “You’re dripping wet, you little slut.” 

You winced, knowing damn well that he was right. There was no hiding it. 

The wince turned into a gasp when he roughly added another finger. 

He couldn’t help the groan that fell from his hips when he felt you stretch to accommodate the extra girth. The thought of feeling that warm, tight wetness around his cock was overwhelming. 

“Sounds like I’m not the only one,” you smirked, reaching out to palm him through his jeans. “We are not making this a thing.” 

His fingers withdrew halfway before slamming into you roughly, drawing a low whine.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” He muttered into your each just before slipping his fingers out of you suddenly and shoving them into your mouth. “You’re hot, but you’re not that hot. I still can’t stand you.” 

You’re cunt clenched around nothing and you whimpered around his fingers, tasting yourself while he undid his pants the rest of the way hastily. 

Euronymous picked you up by the waist without warning, and all but threw you onto the counter, dropping his pants around his ankles as he pulled you flush against him abruptly. 

The counter was the perfect height for him to line himself up with your entrance once he’d pulled our shorts to the side.

Despite having tossed you around up until this point, he paused before pressing forward, almost as if he was asking for permission through his annoyance. 

Instead of nodding, you grabbed hold of his hair and slammed your lips into his. 

The abrupt slam into you knocked the breath out of you. He had a tight grip on your hips and was using it as leverage to make sure that he could get as deep as possible. Without allowing you a minute to adjust, he withdrew fully and sank back in to the hilt, just as quickly.

You hissed, yanking on his hair as you dug your teeth into his shoulder. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He taunted between thrusts, “Does that hurt?” 

You nodded, but matched each slam into you with the roll of your hips, whimpering and whining the whole time shamelessly. You could hate his guts and admit to yourself that he was fucking you senseless at the same time. 

Just as he could feel you starting to relax, Euronymous pulled you off the counter and pulled you down hard, burying himself as far into you as he could possibly get. 

You whined when he flipped you over and bent you over the counter, sinking into you from behind. 

You felt the harsh sting of his hand on your ass and hissed, trying to turn your head over your shoulder to glare at him, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled hard, forcing your back to arch so he could sink in deeper. 

“Not so tough now, are you?” He panted, spanking you again, hard. “Look at you, you’re just a whimpering, desperate mess, aren’t you? Huh? You little slut?” 

“Fuck you.” you managed to choke out, but it came breathy and needy. 

“No,” He chuckled, pulling you back so far that your back was flush with his chest. “Fuck you.” 

His hand wrapped around your throat, not hard enough to cut off the airflow, but enough that it made your heart rate pick up. 

You could feel yourself starting to teeter on the edge of release, and you tried to grind yourself against him even further. 

“I bet you wanna cum, don’t you?” Euronymous muttered into the side of your neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh just above his hand. “I think you’re close, too. I can feel it. Your tight little pussy fluttering around my cock.” 

You tried to nod, but found that you couldn’t. 

The hand around your throat loosened, then disappeared completely, followed by another harsh slap on the ass. 

You were seconds away now, desperate for it. 

But then he pulled out of you all at once and flipped you over, yanking your legs open while you cried out in frustration. 

“Oh, you fucking asshole!” You screamed, trying to clamp your legs together. 

You felt the burn of his fingers making contact with your bare, sensitive, desperate cunt and a wet slapping noise filled the air along with your cries as he slapped you. 

He pulled you down from the counter, onto your knees, and rammed himself into your throat, groaning loudly when he felt your throat spasming around him. He grabbed fistfulls of your hair and fucked your face roughly while you let yourself get used to get him off in hopes that he’d offer you some kind of relief at the end of it. 

“This is what you get for pouring coffee on me you fucking bitch.” He panted in between thrusts, looking down at your watery eyes and the mascara trails that your tears left on your cheeks. 

He was slamming into the back of your throat, hard enough to leave a bruise, while you choked and gagged around his glistening cock. His pace quickened once he felt his balls tightening. 

“That’s it,” He lodged himself far enough in your throat that he’d completely blocked off your air supply as he spilled ropes of hot cum down your throat, groaning “Take my load you fucking whore.” 

When he was done, he pulled himself out of your throat and leaned back against the counter, spent, while you coughed and sputtered on the floor, trying to catch your breath. 

Euronymous looked down at your tear-streaked cheeks and the desperate, needy look in those big doe eyes of yours, almost pleading with him to get you off now that he’d finished, and smirked.

“Get the fuck out of my store.” He told you after pulling his pants up and tucking his softening cock back into them. 

Your eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. 

You weren’t going to beg him. 

You pulled your top back on, threading your arms through the straps before standing on shaky legs and smoothing out your shorts. 

“I hope you get hit by a bus.” You muttered on your way towards the door. 

You meant it. 

You hated him. 

And he hated you. 

Part 2

Euronymous During a gig, Euro would be full of adrenaline, riding the high from the crowd. When he's up there, he's not thinking about anything other than the music, and the roar of the fans, so he's unlikely to even glance at you if you're backstage. If you're in the crowd, he'll hold your gaze, but not for too long. But after the show? He's all over you. He'd really get off on you telling how well he played or how good he looked up on stage. He'd be full of confidence and wouldn't care who's watching him shove his tongue down your throat. At parties, I think he'd keep you close. Either in his lap or at least within arm's length. Euro would want to show you off and would get sloppy with the PDA for sure

Faust It takes everything in this man to keep his cool when you're in the crowd at his gigs. His lips keep trying to curl into a goofy grin, but he does all he can to keep from looking soft on stage.

But after, he's rushing over to you and sweeping you off your feet, probably already three drinks in and desperate to touch you. The two of you would probably find a dark corner to make out or a backroom to get a quickie in before the partying starts. At parties, Faust is glued to your side the entire time. He's either holding your hand, or has an arm draped over your shoulders. He'd be super clingy and want to keep you close, where he knows you're safe.

Dead Pelle truly sounds his best when you're around. The second his eyes land on you in the crowd, he's giving it his all, holding your gaze as he commands the stage. I think he'd be less likely to hurt himself on stage if you're watching him, but if you're out of his line of sight, backstage or something, there will be blood. You'd always have to be ready backstage with a first aid kit to clean out his wounds. Usually, you don't need it, but when you do, The time you spend patching him up would be full of tense silence, maybe even tears. I don't think he'd be big on partying after a gig and might just want to go home. At parties, The two of you probably wander off into the woods and find yourselves walking hand in hand in the moonlight, muttering softly to one another as you enjoy the fresh air and breeze.

You made your way back down the stairs with an armful of beers, trying hard not to spill any, but you’d very clearly overestimated just how many cool bottles you could carry at once. 

You were trying to be helpful, but you were moments away from causing a scene with a symphony of broken glass.

Halfway down, Jan Axel saw you struggling and rushed over to help you while everyone else continued to drink and laugh, oblivious to your balancing act. 

“Let me help you with that.” He muttered, taking half the bottles so that you only had a manageable four left. “Little overconfident, huh?” 

“Maybe.” You chuckled under your breath. “I really thought I had it.” 

The two of you started passing around beers and went your separate ways, but that didn’t stop Øystein from glaring at you when you returned to his side on one of the couches. 

Before you could sit next to him, he pulled you into his lap, and his hand wrapped around your knee tightly. You looked over your shoulder and gave him a questioning look. 

“Why do you look so grumpy, baby?” you pouted playfully, but he didn’t seem to be in a very playful mood. 

“You think I like watching you flirt with my friends?” he growled into your ear. “Right in front of me?” 

“He was just helping me with the beer.” You frowned “You could’ve got up and helped, you know.” 

His fingers dug even deeper into your soft flesh, and you winced. 

“You like embarrassing me in front of everyone?” 

“No,” You muttered, but he heard the shift in your breathing. 

“Maybe I should embarrass you in front of everyone?” his fingers crept up your leg until they were playing with the hem of your short skirt. “Only seems fair.”

“I don’t think that’s fair at all.” You whined, but made no effort to pull away from his wandering hands or to close your slightly parted legs. 

He knew that you weren’t wearing underwear, and an idea popped into his head. 

Øystein acted like he was just shifting you in his lap and adjusting himself, and really, he was. 

At no point had you expected to be dropped directly onto his cock and filled so abruptly. 

You gasped loudly and a few people turned to see what the fuss was all about, but you were just sitting in your boyfriends lap. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

They were all oblivious to the intimate act the two of you were committing. 

“What are you doing?” you breathed once you felt like you could speak, throbbing around him as you tried to wait out the pain. “Fuck, Øystein. It hurts.”

“Then get up.” He urged, leaning back against the couch with a little smirk on is face. 

You couldn’t do it. 

Despite the humiliation of being impaled in a room full of your friends, you were soaked and leaking around his cock. 

“If you can sit pretty, just like this, for an hour. I’ll think about letting you cum,” His lips pressed against your bare shoulder and you shuddered. 

“Easy.” You tried to sound confident, but the word came out shakily. 

“Sure.” He barely moved, and you had to bite back a breathy moan.

This was gonna feel like the longest hour of your life. 

Øystein did not make it easy for you. Not in the slightest. He kept calling people over to sit and chat, shifting slightly every few minutes and offering a little bit of friction to your aching hole. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on. 

Even the slightest movement sent pleasure shooting through your body, but not nearly enough to appreciate it or even enjoy it. 

It was torture, really. 

You focused all your attention into not letting it show on your face and trying not to make any sounds that were too obvious. 

Despite your best efforts, at the half hour mark, you were struggling. 

Your breathing was coming out ragged and you kept clenching your walls around him, trying to bait him into moving more than a fraction of an inch. 

“You okay, baby?” Øystein breathed into your ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice “Still think it’s easy?” 

“Yeah.” You choked out through clenched teeth. 

“You’re doing better than I thought you would.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you from behind, pulling you down further on his cock. 

You made a low whining sound at the back of your throat. 

“Being so good for me.” You could feel his lips moving against your neck. “You like sitting on my cock in a room full of people? Dirty girl.” 

You couldn’t help but nod, cheeks burning. 

“I knew you would.” He hummed smugly. “Half way through. Do you think you can take another half hour?” 

“I don’t know.” You admitted breathlessly. 

“I think you can do it.” Øystein kissed the side of your throat softly “You think this is easy for me? Feeling you wrapped around me like that, drenching my cock? Do you know how wet you are, Angel?” 

“Then do something about it.” You whined. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled darkly, grazing your skin with is teeth. “I said it wasn’t easy, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do this all night, just knowing how worked up you’re getting is worth it.” 

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get out of this?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“How are you going to stand up without everyone knowing what you’ve been doing all night?” 

“They’ll see you too.” You pointed out, leaning back into his chest. “I’m not the one with my dick out, am I?” 

“You think I care if everyone knows I’ve had you on my dick this whole time?” He scoffed softly “I’d fuck you right here in front of all of them if you let me, but I know you won’t. So, I’m fine either way.” 

“Why don’t you just tell them all to leave, then you can fuck me anywhere you want, right now.” You were trying to sound firm, but it really just sounded pathetic. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” his hips bucked upwards slightly and you inhaled sharply, struggling not to cry out. “You think you can cum without everyone noticing?” 

His fingertips trailed up your bare legs, stopping just below the hem of your skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“Say the word and I’ll play with your clit.” 

You could feel his breath fanning over your skin and shuddered. 

“I bet it wouldn’t even take that long.” He continued, tracing patterns on your inner thighs “less than a minute for sure. If you can just keep quiet for that long, maybe nobody will notice.” 

“Come on,” his tone was mocking now, “be a good girl and cum for me.” 

Fuck. 

If he kept talking to you like that, he wouldn’t even have to touch you. 

Øystein hadn’t expected you to give in. 

He’d really thought that he was going to have to spend another half hour trying desperately not to fuck you in front of everyone.

“Good girl.” He breathed into your ear, allowing his hand to wander a little higher up your leg while you shook with anticipation. 

One of his fingers just barely brushed against your clit and you jolted, unable to comtain the breathy moan that fell from your lips. 

Your eyes widened and your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you glanced around the room. 

Still, nobody seemed to notice your predicament. 

His middle finger ran through your slit painfully slowly, stopping at your clit. 

He was toying with you. 

Just barely touching you, clearly intending on taking more than a minute to allow you to cum. 

“Øystein.” you whined softly, rocking your hips just the slightest bit. “That’s not fair.” 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He ran his finger over your clit and smirked when you gasped. 

“Please?” You begged, beyond desperate. 

You were starting to seriously consider letting him fuck you out in the open. 

“If I go any faster, somebody’s gonna notice.” He reminded you, obviously very much enjoying your suffering. 

“Can’t you make them all leave?” You whimpered  “Please baby, I need you so bad.” 

“You’ve got me.” He breathed, kissing your neck. “You’re doing so good, you can take a few more minutes, can’t you?”

“I can’t.” You shook your head, eyes fluttering shut as they started rolling back into your head. Even with the frustratingly slow movements, you were still approaching your peak, only at a speed that made you feel like you were going to die. “I can’t, Øystein. Please, please-” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Angel.” He teased, “You can do it.” 

“You’re almost there.” Øystein muttered, feeling his own breathing start to go a bit ragged when you started fluttering around him, pulsating with need. “I can feel it.” 

Your entire body was starting to tense, and the humiliation lessened. You were completely losing your composure, but managed to keep your mouth shut for the most part. 

But then he stopped. 

You thought you might start crying and you made a shocked sound deep in your throat when his hand withdrew from beneath your skirt. 

You were panting now, spasming around his cock, so painfully close to orgasm only to have it ripped away. 

“Everybody out.” Øystein called out to the party goers. At no point did he take his eyes off of you. “Party’s over.” 

There was a collection of groans, but once they looked over at the two of you, it became painfully obvious why they were being kicked out of their hangout spot and they all left, taking their sweet time to gather their belongings while you squirmed in his lap chest, heaving from your ragged breathing. 

The second the last person disappeared up the stairs, he hooked your legs over his knees and spread you wide open suddenly. 

You cried out, vaguely aware that you didn’t need to be quiet anymore. 

“You ready to cum, Angel?” 

You nodded weakly, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. 

“You were so good for me.” he cooed, rubbing slow, but quicker than before, circles around your clit, quickly turning you into a writhing, mewling mess as you immediately started feeling that buildup again. “Its only fair.” 

He started rutting into you from below, very quickly feeling his own impending release. 

The combination sent you crashing over the edge and you came so hard you couldn’t even make a sound. Your entire body stiffened and Øystein could feel you convulsing around him as he slammed you down on his length. Your walls were pulsating and within seconds, you were milking his cock. 

He muttered a slew of curse words into the side of your throat sloppily, pumping into you a few more times before stopping. 

You were so fucked out that you couldn’t formulate a thought, let along string together a sentence. The excessive buildup and having his cock stretching your insides for so long had left you sore and sensitive. 

Øystein wrapped his arms around you despite his own exhaustion and rubbed your back soothingly. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head and clutched you to his chest. 

After he’d managed to catch his own breath, he unhooked your legs from his knees, allowing you to close them finally. He didn’t really want to leave the warmth of your cunt, but he was sure, even as it softened inside you, that his dick was doing more harm than good at this point. 

You winced when he lifted you off of him and a rush of cum spilled out of you, into his still partially clothed lap. 

“I know,” He muttered softly “I’m sorry, Angel. Are you okay?” 

You just barely hummed, pulling your knees to your chest so you could curl further into his chest. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Euronymous You're right, Øystein woud be all over this shit. You wouldn't even have to beg, although he'd like it if you did. He'd just throw you down onto the mattress and tear your clothes off. If he could see just how exhausted and desperate you were, he'd skip the usual torturous teasing and get right down to business. I don't think he'd be able to help himself and would absolutely be running his mouth the whole time, muttering mocking praise into the side of your throat while slamming into you relentlessly. You'd probably been driving him crazy for days, irritated and bratty with him, arguing over every little thing. He'd jump at the oportunity to ruin you until you couldn't speak. I think he'd fuck you real good, then he'd work you over with his hands and mouth, over and over again until you're a drooling, babbling mess. Even then, he'd fuck you again, just to make sure you slept deeply before getting you cleaned up and clutching you to his chest tightly

Dead I think that with Pelle, you're gonna have to get him riled up, regardless of how tired and whiny you get. He never really wants to be rough with you, and he never means to. He just sort of loses control sometimes and can't stop.

There isn't really anything that gets Pelle riled up quite like blood does. I think that if you were tired enough and strung out to the point where you're completely desperate for some kind of relief, you might be prepared to make yourself bleed a little just to get him going.

A nice gash across your chest would probably do the trick. His eyes would widen slightly, and he'd immediately lick his lips, mesmerized by the crimson drops rolling down the plane of your stomach.

I think you could convince him to start with his hands and mouth to really draw it out. He always gets overeager when he's fingering you anyway, overstimulating you without meaning to. He'd be able to tire you out by the time he's finished. You'd both be so tuckered out by the end of it that you'd pass right out in one another's arms.

Faust Sweet boy Faust is probably going to be the hardest to convince to go rough on you. But, I think that he'd be so desperate to make you feel better, able to see just how bad the lack of sleep is getting to you, that he'd eventually fold like a lawn chair.

He'd start off soft, same as he usually does, but your eyes would well up with frustrated tears, and he'd dial it up, but still be careful with you. The begging would continue until he finds himself wondering how the fuck you managed to convince him to bury himself inside you to the hilt. He'd know that you'd be hurting in the morning, but the not sleeping was really fucking you up and surely, it wouldn't be worse than another sleepless night. So, Faust would fuck you until you're nothing but a whimpering, mewling mess, tears running down your cheeks and eyes glassy, completely fucked out.

When it's over, he'd get you a nice warm washcloth and get you all cleaned up, wiping your tears so you can curl into him. He'd stay awake, resting his chin on the top of your head until he was sure that you were sleeping soundly. Only then would he shut his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.