When Øystein found Pelle — after every room in the house had turned up empty — the scrawny blond was lingering at the edge of the forest. Hands hidden in the sleeves of his denim jacket, his arms were outstretched at his sides — slowly flapping up and down, like a bird testing its wings. His bleary eyes faced skyward, lazily transfixed on some invisible beyond as he shifted his weight from side to side.
Pelle reeks something awful. Øystein gets on his knees about it.
Pairing: Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin/Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth
Warnings: anal sex, fingering, blowjobs, rimming, smoking, name-calling, begging, Pelle being used as an ashtray, gross descriptions of injuries, gross descriptions in general, wishy-washy dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, mentions of self-harm, murder, and animal death, consensual but not safe or sane
"What the fuck are you doing?"
When Øystein wakes up to find Pelle humping his leg like a dog, he has half a mind to put him in his place. In the end, it's Øystein who's the little bitch.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Pelle's saliva was sour and his tongue was sugary, effervescent like the overripened pulp of a fermenting fruit and yielding just as easily. Øystein couldn't think of anything to compare the feeling to except… Well…
Floating in glass, Øystein and Pelle consume each other.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
new eurodead fic in the works. sorry it's taking so long. i hit a brick wall, scrapped my first draft, and started totally from scratch. but now i'm on a roll and dinner should be served reallll soon
thank you so much for asking, i'm flattered! this ended up being kinda long but the tl;dr is — just write what's in your squanch
don't worry about being cringey or if other people won't like it, don't even worry that other people are ever even gonna see it. the more you love what you write and the more comfortable you are, the better your writing will be. tbh don't even worry about finishing something when you start writing it, most things i start writing i go into it knowing i won't finish it but i don't let that stop me from starting because a.) i could always be wrong, and b.) it's good practice either way!
it helps to read a lot! not just fanfiction but also published novels and short stories. branch out and get a feel for different genres and styles and tones and see what cool pictures other authors can paint with words
for dialogue, i recommended actually saying it out loud to yourself to see if it sounds natural or not. in fact, reading the entire thing aloud, or having a program that reads it aloud to you, is a great way to make sure everything flows together and sounds nice. it's also great for editing to catch typos and grammar mistakes, and making sure you don't repeat words or phrases too much.
i like to follow the advice of the late, great David Lynch. write down your ideas so that you don't want to commit suicide later having forgotten the idea. whether it's in a notebook or just in the notes app, i write down pretty much every idea that pops into my head. sometimes they never come to fruition, sometimes i can repurpose them for something else later, but a lot of the time just getting something down on the page starts the dominoes falling and before you know it you have an entire outline
don't be afraid to just get down the bare bones and fill in the rest later. all of my fics start out basically as bullet pointed lists that just sound like i'm texting a friend my stream of consciousness ideas for a plot and snippets of dialogue.
take time to slow down and romanticize your own life a little bit. think about how you would narrate your real life thoughts, feelings, and actions, how you would describe the tastes, sights, smells, and sounds of your real life surroundings
and most importantly, have fun! writing shouldn't be a chore. set aside time for it, make yourself cozy, light some candles, spin a record, have a drink, make it like a date night with your keyboard.
and (this is probably actually the most important) take any and all writing advice with a grain of salt (even mine). try out different things and find what works for you. everybody's different and if you feel like something isn't working for you or like you have to force it, it's okay to let it go. take chances, make mistakes, and get messy.
Pairing: Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin/ Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth
Warnings: voyeurism, self-harm, blowjobs, rimming, anal sex, no prep, knifeplay, blood drinking, feminization, power dynamics, no meaning yes, breeding kink
Whenever Øystein would see, he would feel a twinge deep in his gut — the kind that made him need to take a cold, cold shower.
This time was different.
Øystein totally isn't a creep, and Pelle totally doesn't get off on it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Pairing: Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin/Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth
Warnings: anal sex, fingering, blowjobs, rimming, smoking, name-calling, begging, Pelle being used as an ashtray, gross descriptions of injuries, gross descriptions in general, wishy-washy dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, mentions of self-harm, murder, and animal death, consensual but not safe or sane
"What the fuck are you doing?"
When Øystein wakes up to find Pelle humping his leg like a dog, he has half a mind to put him in his place. In the end, it's Øystein who's the little bitch.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Pairing: Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin/Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth
Warnings: dub-con, dom/sub dynamics, unsafe sex, anal sex, oral sex, skull fucking, anal fingering, begging, name-calling, Øystein being a brat, hair-pulling, mentions of vomit, slight emetophilia, bondage, painplay, impact play, face-slapping, spanking, choking, ligature strangulation, pushing of boundaries, testing of limits, sex injuries, oculophilia, implied oculolinctus
"You said, I could beat you black and blue, remember? You said, I could take you from behind, and choke you like a whore. I haven’t stopped thinking about it."
It's a vicious game of give and take. But who's taking? Who's giving? And where do they draw the line?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
meant to have my new eurodead fic up before christmas but it's gotten away from me and is turning out to be way longer than I thought 🤞 fingers crossed it's up before 2026
Pairing: Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin/Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth
Warnings: anal sex, fingering, blowjobs, rimming, smoking, name-calling, begging, Pelle being used as an ashtray, gross descriptions of injuries, gross descriptions in general, wishy-washy dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, mentions of self-harm, murder, and animal death, consensual but not safe or sane
"What the fuck are you doing?"
When Øystein wakes up to find Pelle humping his leg like a dog, he has half a mind to put him in his place. In the end, it's Øystein who's the little bitch.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
meant to have my new eurodead fic up before christmas but it's gotten away from me and is turning out to be way longer than I thought 🤞 fingers crossed it's up before 2026
Warnings: Trans male character, trans Pelle, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, doggystyle, barebacking, creampie
Words: 1,776
“You wanna fuck?” Pelle’s words were sudden and brash. And Øystein stopped kissing his throat to look up at him.
“That’s what you want?” He asked in return and Pelle nodded at the question. “Then yeah. I wanna fuck,” Øystein said, feeling a bit dumb. It seemed obvious that he wanted to do this, there had never been a time when he hadn’t. Yet, Pelle asked to confirm it every time.
He knew he sounded primitive, desperate to get himself into the blonde. Pelle didn’t seem to mind the lack of subtlety or sophistication. Øystein hadn’t pursued many women in his time, but Pelle was nothing like any of them. Pelle didn’t need to be sweet talked or romanced, he just spread his legs for him.
Øystein grabbed the hem of Pelle’s underwear at the confirmation, dragging them down his hips. As he did, he caught the sight of something dark against the gray of his boxers.
When he inspected closer, he noticed it was blood on the inside of the fabric. Fresh enough that it appeared to still be wet. It saturated most of the garment’s crotch and Øystein raised an eyebrow at the sight.
“Pelle,” Øystein said, pausing his movements. Pelle let out a noise of acknowledgement and Øystein wondered if he didn’t know. Maybe he’d started his period and hadn’t realized it yet. “You’re bleeding,” He pointed out, expecting Pelle to be surprised or embarrassed. Or anything.
“So?” Pelle asked, sounding genuinely perplexed about why Øystein was mentioning it. It was obvious he saw no problem with the situation they were in and it caught Øystein entirely off guard. He laughed softly at that reaction, shaking his head.
“Most people would give a warning,” He explained and Pelle tilted his head at him, almost as though the thought never even crossed his mind. Øystein would believe that. It was clear Pelle was confused, not picking up on the social etiquette associated with this sort of thing.
“Do you still want to fuck or not?” Pelle asked simply and Øystein nodded. “Get to work then,” He said, lightly kicking Øystein’s side with a playful smirk.
Øystein knew what he had to do. They rarely diverted from their usual routine. If Øystein wanted to fuck him, he’d eat Pelle out first, going until the blonde came or simply got bored. Then Pelle would let him push inside, rutting until he was done.
Øystein considered for a moment before he nodded. In all honesty, he didn’t mind a bit of blood. It wasn’t much of a big deal and it certainly wasn’t enough to keep him from fucking Pelle.
“Open them,” Øystein said, pushing Pelle’s thighs further apart and settling between them. He could hear the other giggling above him, spreading his legs enough for him. Øystein examined his body for a moment, just trying to see the differences between Pelle now and his usual look. There wasn’t really any visible differences and he wasn’t sure what he had even expected.
Maybe he anticipated it would be a bloodbath between Pelle’s thighs, blood and gore painting his body. If anything, there was only a bit of blood clinging to Pelle’s pubic hair. Outside of that, Øystein couldn’t notice anything. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or just surprised, but he pressed his face between his legs nonetheless.
“Just like that,” Pelle encouraged as Øystein spread his lips apart and licked between them. His mouth was close to Pelle’s hole, lapping curiously. There was a noticeable difference in taste. Pelle tasted muskier now and the faint metallic taste of blood stuck to his skin. Øystein licked more firmly at it, trying to see if he could get more of the taste. His tongue dipped into his hole, pressing firmly until it slipped inside the most it could and Pelle squirmed more than usual. “Keep going,” He breathed out.
Øystein enjoyed the fact that Pelle was more sensitive, far more responsive than he normally was. His thighs seemed to attempt to close, but Øystein kept them held open. It felt taboo in a way Øystein hadn’t expected it to, but he enjoyed it. Most people didn’t want to have sex while one was actively bleeding.
It was widely viewed as disgusting, unsightly, perverse. In short, it was everything they both were. Øystein clearly had no qualms with it. Honestly, it was more of a surprise that they hadn't done this before.
Øystein felt his cock throb between his thighs, rocking his hips down against the bed as much as he could. It wasn't a lot, but any stimulation was better than nothing. He moaned against Pelle's skin, licking deeper into him.
“Clit,” Pelle instructed, using the same voice one might use when giving orders to a dog. It made Øystein's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but a part of him enjoyed it. It wasn't the first time Pelle had spoken to him like that and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Øystein didn't hesitate in obeying the command, immediately sliding his mouth up to wrap around Pelle’s clip. He licked for a moment, circling the sensitive bud. Pelle nearly wailed when he sucked at it; Pelle’s nerves already felt like they were on fire.
Despite how good it felt, Pelle managed to lay still. Øystein wanted to slip his fingers into him, stretching him open for his cock, but he knew not to do so without permission. Pelle was quite particular about these things and even though Øystein didn't understand why Pelle didn't always want it, he respected it.
“Inside” Pelle said after a few long moments. Another man might get insecure about the way Pelle “asked” for things, but Øystein didn't mind it. It was clear and concise, and he didn't mind following along.
“You tasted good,” Øystein told him as he pulled away. Pelle rolled his eyes at the comment, but didn't otherwise acknowledge him.
“How do you want it?” Pelle asked instead, his normal bluntness not fading a bit.
“Hands and knees,” Øystein responded, not really having to think about it. He loved every position, but doggy was one of his favorites. Even with Pelle whose body lacked the natural curves he so greatly appreciated.
Pelle turned over a bit awkwardly, settling into the right position and getting himself comfortable. He looked beautiful and Øystein decided the lack of soft edges on Pelle’s body didn't matter.
“Whenever you're ready,” Pelle said and Øystein could hear the smile in his voice. A kiss was pressed to Pelle's shoulder and Øystein lined himself up.
He was so much better at this now. The first few times, lining himself up had been a bit difficult. He'd never imagined getting inside of the other would be hard, but he was inexperienced and Pelle was impossibly tight. Pelle had always found it hilarious, helping Øystein inside each time. The dark-haired man was able to do it himself now, though.
“You're so wet,” Øystein breathed as he buried himself inside of Pelle. He was as tight as ever, but the blood and saliva made the slide easier. “It feels good,” He added and he knew it wasn't the most eloquent he'd ever been, but it got his point across. For a moment, he stayed still and let Pelle's body adjust to the intrusion.
“Fuck me,” Pelle told him after a brief pause. It didn't seem like enough time had passed, but he wasn't going to argue with Pelle about it. Certainly not when everything in his own body was telling him to hold onto Pelle's waist, fucking into him until he emptied inside of his pliant body.
Øystein held him tightly, keeping him still as he began rocking into him. He watched his cock disappearing inside of him, expecting to see blood every time he pulled out. He tried not to be too disappointed when it looked mostly normal.
“Ow,” Pelle hissed out suddenly and Øystein stopped moving. “Don't go so deep. It hurts when you do that,” He explained. Øystein wondered if it was a part of having a period. He'd never minded Øystein going deeply before. Still, he obeyed without question.
“Does that feel better?” Øystein asked once he changed his movements, purposefully going shallower this time around. Pelle nodded and gave a noise of approval.
Finding a position and depth they both enjoyed, Øystein moved quicker. Pelle let out a pleased hum, pressing back against him. Looking between them, Øystein could make out a bit of blood clinging to his cock and he felt lightheaded.
He fucked him harder at the sight, wanting to see if he could make him bleed a bit more. Pelle clenched tightly around him and Øystein barely fought to keep himself from fucking deeper into him.
Pelle's hand slid between his legs, rubbing at his already too sensitive clit. Øystein smiled at the way it made Pelle inhale sharply, body tightening up. He fucked him harder, accidentally going too deep a couple of times. It made Pelle gasp and jerk every time, and a sadistic part of Øystein wanted to fuck deeper every time.
Slick sounds filled the air as Øystein rutted almost desperately now. They were both getting closer to the edge and Pelle folded first. He cried out and clenched down around Øystein's cock so much it nearly hurt.
His body collapsed once he was done, going mostly limp on the bed. Øystein knew to keep going; Pelle stopped caring about sex as soon as he came, but he always let Øystein finish. Always wanted him to finish.
It had been off-putting the first few times, but like most things about Pelle, he'd gotten used to it. Øystein continued thrusting into him, not slowing down. He knew Pelle, knew he didn't have to. Pelle could handle a lot, certainly anything Øystein threw at him, and a little overstimulation had never bothered him.
“Come inside me,” Pelle encouraged and Øystein didn't need to be told twice. A handful of thrusts later, he grunted and spilled inside of him, hot and wet. His nerves burned from the exertion, sex with Pelle always left him a bit sore.
Øystein pulled out a bit as he continued coming, making sure he was shallow enough that his come would leak out once he was done. He held tightly onto Pelle's hips, almost hard enough to bruise. For a few moments, he stayed pressed inside of him.
Finally, he eased himself out and groaned as his now overly sensitive skin was stimulated. He watched as his come began to leak out of Pelle, the normally off-white substance was now tinted pink and he smiled at the sight.
