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sl4sh3rsub · 6 months

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brahms heelshire hcs (nsfw: mdni)

brahms heelshire x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a whole heap. dom/sub dynamics + aspects of the lifestyle (both brahms and reader are switches, reader is a soft dom mostly) AND top/bottom dynamics (both brahms and reader are vers), dubious consent (somnophilia, overstimulation?), use of mommy/daddy/sir towards reader in separate sections, copious mentions of cum + precum (includes cum eating/cum marking/cum jar), fuck malcolm 202x (brahms is territorial), detailed ass stuff: anal, rimming, ass eating (giving and receiving), oral sex (giving), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), domestic behaviour, hygiene practices, hickeys, thigh fucking, cockwarming, sex toys, dry humping

a/n: barely edited. is it mummy or mommy?? average aussie moment. i also have a smut fic in my drafts so hmu in the inbox if you wanna see it, i'm not too sure if there's any demand for it lmao DISCLAIMER: i, personally, have not been in properly established dominant/submissive relationship! i have been in those spaces for a while though and am doing my best to not misrepresent lifestyle aspects or write fics promoting extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics - obviously take this with a grain of salt as this fic is about a slasher and is already not a healthy n wholesome starting point. do your own research and stay safe irl folks

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

there's a very clear dom/sub dynamic in your relationship and brahms is definitely a switch (leaning sub) to the core. sometimes he'll be extremely dominant with you during sex, but he'll always revert back to your sweet boy after he makes an effort to clean you up <3

you take turns fucking each other braindead but after your eyes roll into your head, you always have to get him back by making him drool into the pillows for the next couple of hours

brahms insists on starting a quickie and cumming all over your chest and face right before malcolm is scheduled to arrive. he pushes you towards the door as the bell rings and wants to leave you with his drying spend stained all over your skin, sticking your shirt to you in dark splotches - a territorial, possessive nature is awakened in brahms as he watches from the walls while malcolm flushes and realises what is going on. the best bit is, you're fully well aware of what he's doing after the first time it happens, but you entertain his antics for a little while longer to ensure the poor delivery boy gets the message to back off

he also has a small, little, teensy weensy habit of cum marking all of your underwear, pillowcases and even goes as far as making you special little jam sandwiches with a little... salty layer, especially for you

push your thumb against his hole and go to town on his ass and eat him out - put a pillow under his hips and do him a favour by stuffing your underwear in his mouth so he won't lose his voice as he's screaming from pleasure, of course. he'll be so, so obedient for the day after and if you sneak behind him to smack his ass, his knees will buckle slightly and his head whips towards you to meet your mischievous gaze

his sloppy, spit-shined pink hole winks at you after you make out with it, and the sight makes you lose control every single time, especially when he whines. he grinds against your tongue as you fuck him, circling your fingers around the base of his cock to stop him from instantly staining the sheets. his precious cum spurting onto his chest would be a waste and make quite the mess

brahms' knees get weak and he practically melts beneath your touch when you start focusing on his cockhead while sucking him off - slick up your thumb with his sticky precum as you drag it along his slit, lick small circles and drool over it as you blow cool air to see him shiver... genuinely anything to do with his sensitive tip with get him spilling all over your tongue. if he's sitting on the edge of a table or counter while you take his length down your throat, he'll shift one of his thighs over your shoulder and hump into your mouth with shuddering gasps, needing to have your drool coating him completely while his eyes roll back and you hold your breath

brahmsy is obsessed with you caring for him (both sexually and non-sexually), especially with things such as prescribed routines and specific positions for him to follow. of course brahms is reliant on order! he's already accustomed to following the rules and schedules while in the wall, so it's only natural for him to feel safe with you after his previous neglect. he's so obedient and willing for you to make him into your own pliable doll - he's most happy with you guiding him everywhere and often shaving him, practically playing dress up every day. brahms knows that every saturday is when you have your thorough 'inspection' of his body - it's when you decide whether or not to shave his pubes and facial hair in the next week! sometimes he wants to be clean shaven and sometimes he's more than happy to grow out his dark curls, but he secretly adores you methodically shaving around his cock - gently holding it up or to the side to make sure you get everything and your diligent focus solely on his soft shaft makes him flush under your attentive gaze. every single time you adjust your warm grip on his balls to maneuver the blade, his cockhead beads out a tad bit of precum. every single time, without fail. he doesn't even have to be hard for his body to react like that, for his tip to drool with his arousal, but your low chuckles and distracted glances up at his flushed chest make it hard for him to not squirm in your hold :( he was originally the one to suggest the whole shaving thing, as he wasn't the biggest fan of fully cleaning up after cumming everywhere and it tended to dry in his thick bush of curls. after you first tried out hair removal with him, he found it much easier to wipe off his mess and was overall much more convenient.

your clinical precision in keeping your favourite boy upkept each day makes for a soothing routine for you and a chance for brahms to preen and bask in your attention for a solid hour. brahms' favourite part of the daily routine is your softly spoken orders in the morning to tilt his chin back slightly as you run the razor over his jawline and down his neck. the raw vulnerability almost gives him shivers, but good boys never disobey directions to 'stay still' <3

if you manage to wrangle up get brahms into having a prescribed skincare routine, his attentively mumbled recitations of the order for his cleanser, exfoliant and moisturizer drift down the hall while you prepare breakfast for two of you :(

make sure to praise him for washing up properly before you both get intimate! his lifestyle did a 180 after meeting you, so any encouragement to be clean and neat is positive reinforcement for him to stay that way

if brahms feels a little shy or out of it on any given day, he disappears into the walls for some time away - that doesn't mean he won't trail you like a shuffling shadow though, he just might not want to be out in the open for a little. to make him feel loved, kiss the wallpaper of the wall he's behind! the little gasp or squeak of surprise as he undoubtedly turns beet red just a mere inch away from you is a small joy <3

if you feel stressed or wound up, he's fully convinced that some dick will mellow you out just fine! he wants you to be fucked out so your anxious demeanor disappears and you can be happy again - it's for your own good :(

despite how he loves the wholesome nature of your voice going soft while you compliment him, he can't ignore how it makes him swell in his pants. he just loves the warmth in your gaze and the quirk in the edge of your lips as his eyes glaze over

brahms has a cum jar that he keeps in the walls - it has a small lock of your hair set in it from when you slept in the house the first night. if you have to go out early to the local farmer's market or shops, you'll most likely find a small, warm jar hastily and clumsily cleaned on your bedside table - a cooling milky substance makes the glass opaque as a few small dribbles slide down the outer rim. it's from brahmsy, of course. he wants you to always be aware of what your presence and existence does to him

whenever he wants to try and cook for you or you leave your meal out before you eat together, brahms will quickly jack off all over the food. he just wants to make sure you have a bit of his love incorporated in your diet - in case you accidentally swap them, he'll make sure to put it on all the plates available. he doesn't mind at all, he's not picky! although, brahms would much rather eat his cum off of your fingers or out of you, or even from your lips as you make out after you give him head... but whatever has to happen to ensure you have his cum in your tummy, brahmsy will do it

he is a fiend for stealing your clothing, especially your underwear (bonus points if they're not clean) - he wears the dirty garment or simply wraps it around his leaky cock. he begs you to wear the cum-stained underwear while you go out on emergency necessary shopping trips. he just wants to ensure that you have him on your mind the whole time :(

if you refuse, he'll reluctantly compromise with you and make you keep the doll with you to ensure everyone backs off when you're in public. he swears up and down that you'll be so much safer with his 'mini me' attached at your hip

if you need to go into town at any point, make sure to prep brahms a day beforehand with being alright in your absence - have your laundry done ahead of time with your detergent and scent on it to give him and leave written instructions to have a shower using your soap and shampoo to feel safer <3 if you've been doing a project over the past few days, such as painting or long chores together (like repairing a set of chairs or dusting all the room decor), make sure brahms is comfortable with continuing it when you're out - it gives him a distraction and something to do with his hands

puppy dog eyes go both ways in your relationship - he weaponizes it to try and convince you to spend more time skin-to-skin and you use it to make him listen and follow instructions. it also has the added bonus of getting you both riled up

tap twice on your belt buckle or the fly of your pants and his brain will fully turn off. his breath goes whiny and his tongue lolls out at the thought of you using his face for your own selfish needs

brahms is incredibly shy but willing to go against his own timid nature for you. the first time he presented himself to you was something you'll never forget. you had gone to fetch him a glass of water and when you returned to your room, he had confidently stripped naked and was kneeling on the rug, waiting for you with a blush across his chest. you stuttered and diverted your gaze in shock, hurriedly covering your eyes. brahms rose and tutted, shakily tilted your chin towards him and cooing at your bashful reaction. he whispered reassurances in your ear - he wanted you to look at his body, it's yours to do with as you wish. he trusts you wholeheartedly, so command him and he will meet your every need

if brahmsy is being a bit of a brat, tease him for not being on his best behaviour - press soft kisses into his lips but never deepening, purposefully avoiding what he craves most. keep your hand at the base of his throat to gently apply pressure while you slowly draw closer to him, puffs of breath mingling as his whines get more desperate. if brahms lunges to try and smash your lips together, pull back and tighten your grip. watch his eyes roll back with tears pooling from his need

brahms' favourite punishment is being spanked as he's bent over your knee, cock pressed between your thighs. whenever he jolts, he can thrust into you as his pale skin lights up pink and red - both from your hand and his arousal. make sure to smack his balls a little too, he'll cum like a fountain from the stimulation. brahms truly is a sight to behold whenever he is falling apart by your hand

his second favourite punishment is when you fuck yourself on a dildo smaller than his cock. order him into his prescribed kneeling position - palms flat on his thighs, heels propped up under his ass and back straight - to make him watch you bounce up and down on your toy, giving him a show. watch him intently and you'll see rivulets of sweat trail down his chest as his dick bobs and twitches against his stomach at the lack of stimulation, his heated gaze feasting on the sight of your body with rapt attention. the part that makes his chest ache is your slightly needy and unsatisfied expression you try to hide - brahms knows for a fact that the silicone can't fill you the way he can. although he is more than happy with watching you get off mere feet infront of him, the agonizing thrum of his heartbeat in his cock and white crescents dug into his thighs are testament to how this scenario is effecting him. it's different to his voyeuristic endeavors behind the walls - if he had his way, he would've already busted a load onto the drywall and all over his fist at the sight of you

brahms is a massive fan of ruined orgasms - as long as you shush his yelps and whimpers while pressing kisses into his hairline and stroking his thighs, that is. he needs the comfort during and afterwards, but the raw experience altogether gives him an adrenaline rush

he is also a massive fan of cock milking - keep a small crystal bowl under his tip to catch all his milky cum. the visual of the aftermath, combined with the shaking of his thighs, nearly makes his vision black out with pleasure

brahms' movements are clumsy, and his hands shake from nervousness and reverence every time he touches you and he learns over time how to please and obey you perfectly, but he never shakes his little habit of rutting against you whenever you're nearby

the poor guy has years and years of pent-up sexual frustration and yearning - you are the perfect solution to all of his problems, so don't be surprised if he's selfish with his pleasure every so often

if you straddle him while cuddling and put his head to your chest, his brain fully stops working and all of his blood rushes to his cock. however, unlike every other time you're in a sexual position, his constant need to fuck you is delayed temporarily - he's torn between feeling comforted and extremely turned on, resulting in him being rock hard but comfortably lounging while you run your fingers through his hair. kiss him at your own pace, as he has no rush to be buried in your guts - just don't shift on top of him though, he'll snap out of it and remember what position you're both in :<

brahms has a life mission of reminding you that it's play time at all times of the day, attempting to coax you into letting him seek refuge between your thighs, no matter the situation - be it eating your ass from behind while you cook or caging you against the nearest bench while fucking your soft thighs

call him a pervert for watching you behind the walls and he'll turn bright red out of shame. do him a favour and ignore the bulge he fruitlessly tries to cover his huge bulge with trembling hands

he loves to give you head while you wake, your heavy musk is addictive to him. he's definitely not against you returning the favour the next day or fucking yourself on his morning wood after he's been humping you in his sleep. his favourite thing is to blink away his drowsiness while realising he's buried to the hilt in your tight warmth, pinching your nipples and moaning above him. hopefully you have nothing to do that morning, because the moment he cums, he will be immediately knocked out for another hour

brahms makes himself a little leather collar in his workshop - if you go into town and get an engraved pendant for him, he will go feral and not take it off for weeks :(

if he feels a bit worn out after a round or a mind-blowing orgasm, expect to feel his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck - especially when his softening cock still buried deep inside you. he loves to take a little nap in between rounds while you cockwarm him, it's just easier for your heartbeats to match pace :<

while brahms was in the walls, he had a habit of skulking around while other nannies were working - stroking his cock for a couple of minutes before going back to lounging in his bed or returning to shadow his carer, raging boner being unattended for a while before the whole cycle repeated. this results in him wandering around the house - with either his boxers tented or his bottom half nude, for easy access of course. you have to train him into the habit of wearing pants consistently. this little pattern of his also results in him initiating sexual situations with you - such as grinding, making out or dry humping - before disappearing into a wall in the middle of it, only to reappear a short while later to continue the interaction

he treasures anything you buy for him! what do you mean you got him a rose bouquet and a pretty butt plug with a shiny gem? ... a toy? for him?? he just wants to be loved and getting him any type of gift, especially sex toys, is the perfect way to ensure he knows he is loved and cared for. it validates his intense feelings of love and affection towards you

it's very important to remind him about alternating his clothes - the sour stench of sweat and musty air can cling to his older outfits, so getting him adjusted to wearing fresh clothing you picked out is beneficial to you both

brahmsy often helps himself to your bed and bedding, causing you to be pressed snugly to his lean body with the downy comforter wrapped securely around the two of you. if you're away from your room in the early morning, expect to return to a tall, snoring man bundled in all of you bed linen

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

brahms calls you daddy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his reverent gaze trails over your body.

brahmsy begs you to fuck him whenever he's feeling subby, so be sure to let him bounce on your cock - the real reward is the hickeys you leave on his pale chest while he grinds down and clutches your head close to his chest

slap your cock on his hole :( his neck will be aching slightly from his insistence on maintaining eye contact with you as he begs for you to be inside him

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size, not small in any capacity. sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as he remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your cock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation of your cock as he swallows down your hot cum. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to ride his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms daydreams about your lip-gloss, all sticky at the base of his cock as your tight lips suckle around his sensitive tip

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your bra strap peeking out from your shirt collar. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him... hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

brahms has a penchant for cumming with his tip pressed against your hole - he loves working you up with his tongue while stroking himself then, while he's about to cum, he pushes himself into you. that tad bit of resistance met against his tip is enough to make his balls tighten and cock spurt hot ropes

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping pussy, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your clit is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty bud, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your cunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

brahms calls you sir relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his devoted gaze trails over your body

he loves being able to have the hand of another man to teach him how to indulge in pleasure. the absolute mind-blowing rush he feels whenever he sinks into your tight heat rivals what he heard heaven was like, especially when you moan so loudly as he strokes your cock

whenever brahms is fucking you from behind, he has a habit of digging his fingers into your soft lower tummy, massaging his fingertips back and forth over his cockhead as he's buried balls deep. his eyes glaze over at the added pressure and drool dribbles onto your back as his jaw goes slack

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to fuck his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size - not small in any capacity, so sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as brahms remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping tcock, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your dick is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty length, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your boycunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

imagine his surprise when the pretty, sweet nanny has a bulge under her skirt just like his! his brain short-circuits when he realises you have similar bodies - he's able to transfer his knowledge of pleasure across to you. when he discovers what makes you tick, he practices on himself to get used to it and to hone his technique

he'll sew you a special set of lingerie, with hair bows to match. brahms is a craftsman at heart and nothing makes his heart swell more than watching you showcase his work. he'll fuck you in front of all the mirrors in the house - he wants to see you absolutely fall apart while you display his handiwork. brahmsy truly believes you have the beauty of an angel, that the greatest honour is to have you wear his creation proudly :(

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths outside, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your hard nipples making soft peaks in your shirt. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him… hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your girlcock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation as he swallows down your hot arousal. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

fuck greta and by extension, fuck malcolm ig. this took a hot minute tbh. am cooking up some more stuff but might take a while.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

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callie-the-creator · 5 months

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Brahms, micheal, vincent, and thomas hewitt reactng to our clit pircing

mild nsfw. warnings: suggestive content, ‘certain’ piercings, reader is a fmab, brief mention of masturbation (m), fingering, etc.

author’s note: ask and you shall receive! 💓

brahms heelshire

• you didn’t tell brahms right away when you had gotten your clit pierced. you knew that it would intrigue him, but figured it’d be in your best interest to let it heal first.

— it should also be stated that you have quite the habit of walking around the heelshire mansion with only a t-shirt and panties. so, when you were tired and decided to stretch, your shirt lifted, giving brahms the perfect opportunity to let his eyes wander down. the way the fabric landed in one area was…unnatural. brahms, at the time, figured that he must be imagining things. boy, was he wrong.

• later that week, when brahms was watching you from the little holes through the walls, he caught you changing. he always liked to see you like this—so calm and nonchalant as you slipped off your underwear. how erotic it was to make brahms’ hand subconsciously slip under his waistband, but when you turned around, he stopped. that’s when he saw your piercing.

• brahms nearly hit himself against the wall when he leaned forward to get a closer look.

• you looked so wonderful…a small smile crept onto his features from under his mask as he resumed pleasuring himself from behind the wall, but brahms was confused. why haven’t you told him? there must’ve been some reason. he did feel a bit heartbroken that you didn’t share this news with him, but to make it all better, he’ll have to pretend to be shocked once you tell him about your new piercing.

michael myers

• i think it’s safe to say that you were a bit scared to show michael your piercing. he’s always been unpredictable, hard to read.

— with that being said, when you told me that you were going to get your clit pierced, he was less than impressed. after your appointment, michael even went so far as to ignore you for the first few days. however, he eventually got used to it with time.

vincent sinclair

• when you got home after your appointment, vincent was working on another one of his wax statues. so, when you went down there and saw him at his workstation gathering some supplies, you leaned against him. he doesn’t care if you press all your weight against him, he can hold both of you up (and he loves whenever you do that).

— seeing that you were back home, one of vincent’s arms snaked around your waist and he used it to pull you closer to him, caressing your side when he did. he missed you.

• “guess what i did?”

— this caused vincent to stop what he was doing and look down at you, you didn’t get new clothes, your hair looked the same…so what was it? he had no clue. he simply tilted his head to show you that he was interested.

• that’s when you took him by the hand and pulled him off to the side, away from the prying eyes of his wax statue, to give him a sneak peek of your piercing.

• vincent had to do a double-take when he first saw it, but he was so gentle when he caressed your inner thigh, not wanting to risk hurting your healing clit. you’re so beautiful…

thomas hewitt

• you didn’t know how you forgot to tell thomas about your new piercing.

• but just as when thomas was about to go down on you, you remembered about it all and went to stop him, but it was too late…he saw the glimpse of the light reflecting off your clit piercing. he blinked rapidly at the sight. was he dreaming? silently, thomas looked between you, your piercing, and back to you.

— don’t get thomas wrong, he immediately became a fan of it, but it was just…hard to take in all at once. he almost immediately grazed his fingers over the piercing—careful not to hurt you in any way in doing so.

• “do you…like it?”

— how could you ask that? of course he did! his veiny, chubby cock pulsed causing his voice to ring out in delight. thomas slowly nodded, his slick sweat falling down his lowbrow and down his reddened face, keeping his focus on the piercing as he slowly inched his index and middle finger inside of you…

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sleeperwillow · 1 year

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Will you take his hand?

Tee hee. A redraw from like a year ago minus the clothing tho 👁️👁️ uncensored is on my twt (@/adasketches) no minors obvs.

#my art #art #artwork #fan art #drawing #digital art #digital painting #fanart #brahms #brahms heelshire #brahms x you #brahms x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slashers x reader #slashers #slashers fandom #the boy 2016

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months

Text

.⋆｡Your Personal Ghost｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

As a writer, you need peace and quiet but it seems the ghost in your new home has some other ideas for you

Warnings: paranoia, sort of stalking, usual Brahms shenanigans, nudity, little bit of smut, m and f masturbation, voyeurism

WC: 861

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

That feeling was back, the feeling that you were being watched, like eyes were cutting into the back of your head, observing every move you made. A shiver rolled down your spine but you shook it off in favour of continuing your work.

The house was old, very fucking old, so it was bound to have a few ghosts. That is what you bought the place, you hoped that those spirits could help inspire you, your publisher was getting very pushy for a new book.

You had hoped that the manor in the picturesque English countryside, which was being sold for a very reasonable price, would give you some ideas and motivation for a new novel. But so far, your writer’s block had turned into a full on story dam and you had developed a pervasive feeling of paranoia. The old ass furniture that creaked when you so much as looked at it didn’t help much either.

The small cursor on your laptop screen seemed to mock you as it blinked away in your empty document. You had written about 30 story ideas since you moved in a month ago but you deleted all of them, or at least you assumed you deleted them because they would disappear when you woke up in the morning. None of the stories felt right, they were all either too overdone or not creative enough for a full length book and it was quickly driving you crazy.

“God!” You groaned and leaned back into your desk chair, covering your eyes with frustration. “How the fuck does Stephen King do this?” You whined as your fingertips dug into your temples in an attempt to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to form.

Your shoulders sagged as you sat forwards again. “I need a break.” The legs of the chair scraped against the old hardwood, echoing through the otherwise silent office. A glance at the window revealed yet another cloudy day and you wondered if it was ever sunny here.

The eyes of the creepy portraits in the hall followed you as you walked by, like they always did but you truly didn’t have the energy to deal with them today. Your bedroom was a complete mess but you told yourself it was a functional mess as you stepped around several piles of clothes and books on your way to the bathroom.

A huge claw-foot tub rested beneath a large window overlooking the expansive grounds of the manor, providing you with literally the best baths you had ever taken. Soon enough, hot steam began to fill the room and the sound of running water overpowered the buzz of fear that almost constantly filled your head. A couple drops of lavender essential oils and some bubble bath completed your little ritual.

Shedding off your ratty writing clothes, you stepped into the tub. Immediately the hot water relaxed your tense muscles and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You sank further into the water, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as your hands travelled down the length of your soft body, coming to rest at the seam of your thighs.

“Maybe I need to properly relax. It has been a while.” You murmured to yourself as your fingertips began to explore your sensitive inner thighs. A quiet mewl slipped through your lips, stoking the fire that was beginning to blaze in your belly. Your hips bucked into your hand, keening for your own touch.

“Fuuuck.” You whined as you finally brushed against your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. Water light lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as your body moved, chasing your end. But even through the sound of the water and your breathless moans, you heard something else.

A loud creak and the trembling of the wall. You froze and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. There was a crack in the wallpaper on the wall opposite you and you swore that something moved behind it but as you waited, holding your breath in fear, nothing happened.

You groaned before you let out a relieved laugh. “God, this place is haunted.” Your hands did not return to your previous activities, instead you shut your eyes and let the still warm water caress your body, unaware of the very real presence behind the wall.

His cooling cum coated Brahms’s hand and pants as he struggled to catch his breath through his pale mask. His eyes remained locked on your barely concealed body as his cock began to twitch back to life, he wished that you would play with yourself again but he was still content to see you completely bare to him, just as he had dozens of times before.

He so badly wished to reveal himself to you, to have you touch him instead of only imagining it while he used your stolen clothes to wrap around his cock. You would stay here forever with him, he would guarantee it but he had to be patient. At least today he didn’t have to sneak out of the wall and delete your manuscript again.

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itsfuntobeavampiree · 1 year

Text

《☆Bath time☆》

Brahms heelshire x fem!reader

I'll get round to doing a male reader don't worry

Fluff? I mean they'll be non-sexual nudity and a few dirty thoughts from our rat King 👑 🐀

Warnings: nudity,dirty thoughts from brahms, mention of breasts ,hoes in a tub.

Not proofread. I was half asleep writing this.

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎

You undressed yourself, tossing the dirty clothes to the corner. 'I'll pick them up later' you thought. As you tested the temperature a creak in the floorboards caught your attention. You turned around slowly seeing brahms stood there awkwardly with his arms behind his back. "I thought you said you were going to undress?" You said, placing your hands on your hips. Having zero shame of being in complete nude. "This was your idea anyway..." you mumbled, stepping into the bath careful to not spill any bubbles. You adjusted to the heat and sighed as you got comfortable.

Brahms waddled over and shakily slid off his cardigan. After a while being with brahms you decided that his wardrobe needed an update and brought him all this lounge wear. So seeing what he was wearing under the cardigan, it being a long sleeve t-shirt and some sweats for leg wear you got him,made you softly smile. "Don't you look handsome in your new clothes mister!" You said, as brahms cheeks tinted pink at the compliment. Not like you could see with the mask on his face.

He was now fully naked aswell, bashfully stepping into tub. He sat (uncomfortably may I add) cross-legged inbetween your legs. You chuckled as he squeezed himself together so he could fit. "Brahmsy cmere!" You laughed as you spun him around so he had his back pressed up against your chest. His eyes widened as he could feel your breasts pushing up against him, his mind went through every naughty thought he could think off before being snapped back into existence by your hands gently coming round to pull his mask off.

He sprung his arms up, causing a bit of a splash, to stop you from going any further. You let out a tsk and soothed him by rubbing his shoulders. "Do you want to be a clean happy boy?we gotta make sure your face is all fresh and handsome aswell silly!" You giggled as you rested your chin on his shoulder. His breathing hitched. He wanted to be a clean happy boy, He wanted to be all fresh and handsome, just for you. "I want to be a clean happy boy....for you" he muttered but loud enough for you to hear. You let out an aw at his adorableness and slowly but carefully removed his mask. "Now show me that gorgeous face of yours!"You cheered as he hesitantly turned his head. You looked at how handsome his face was and gave him a smile just to let him know that everything was ok.

You had washed brahms' hair which was extremely difficult as he was too big for the tub and it was harder because you were smothering the poor boy with your boobs, which I doubt he minded. You had scrubbed him clean and made sure no part of his body was unwashed. He enjoyed the part where you had to wash yourself ,watching you intently as you scrubbed your chest. You had firstly gotten yourself out the bath before brahms. You wrapped a towel around yourself and grabbed one for brahms. He snuggled himself up in the towel, shivering at the noticeable draft that was always in the mansion. "Cmon brahms let's get you ready for bed" you ushered him out the bathroom and into your bedroom.

He sat comfortably on the bed , waiting patiently for his clothes to be presented to him. You placed a pajama set on his lap as you went to go find your own pajamas. He looked down at the grey long sleeve shirt and the blue tartan pajama bottoms. He dried himself and put the pajamas on looking into the mirror in the corner, he looked up and realised he had left his mask in the bathroom and to be honest he couldn't be asked to go get it.

He turned around and watched you put on your matching pajama bottoms. He grinned happily and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms round your waist as he buried his face in your hair. "Don't we look dashing, let me just put my hair up then we can get into bed "you said reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Don't take to long y/n" he muttered as he made his way into bed still watching you intently.

You hopped into bed next to him getting ready to close your eyes until you felt a hand gently tap your shoulder. You opened your eyes confused, waiting for a response. "My goodnight kiss" he pouted as his eyes tried to stay open. You mentally punched yourself for forgetting something so important. You wiggled over to him and massaged his cheek as his eyes fluttered close. You gave him a loving peck on the lips before snuggling up into him. He reacted to this and wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you in more.

"Goodnight my baby boy"

"Night love"

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

I am severely touch starved.

PLEASE REBLOG THANK YOU

#slasher x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms x y/n #brahms the boy #brahms x female reader #brahms headcanons #brahms heelshire x reader #fluff #brahms x you

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small-sinclair · 11 months

Text

Because I haven’t read any Brahms Heelshire—

Brahms x y/n

Contains: reader is afraid of storms.

Thunder shook the mansion as lightning broke through the windows, cussing y/n to jolt up from bed. They looked around and hugged their knees as they listened to the storm outside. This wasn’t a storm they were used to, and being in a new house made things worse. They closed their eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but thunder clapped again and they jolted out of bed and headed straight for Brahms’s room.

Under the covers, the doll laid in his pajamas, glass eyes opened and looking up. Y/n rounded the bed and laid on the other side, going under the covers and holding the doll close. They closed their eyes as the storm rattled the house again.

From the closet, Brahms watched through the cracked door. His eyes glossed over y/n’s shaking body as he heard them whimper at the noise. Lightning lit the room, causing y/n to flinch and hide under the covers.

Though he prefers to wait to show himself to a nanny, he couldn’t stand the sight of them being scared like this. Y/n has been such a good person to him. They follow the rules, cook and clean with care, hugs the doll as if the doll was their child, sings and kisses it good night— it’s night far that they’re suffering alone with an object. He breathed out slowly before stepping out of the closet and crept towards the bed.

His heart breaks a little when he hears them cry under the covers as the storm. Gently, he kneels next to the bed and carefully placed a hand on their shoulder to comfort them, but y/n’s shoulder jerked as soon as his hand touched them.

As soon as they flew the covers over, he was crouched on the other side of the room, holding his hands out. He listens as y/n screams and coward back under their back is again the bed frame, but almost relaxes when they see his mask.

“Brahms?” They chocked out through tears.

He nods, his child voice answering, “Yes.”

Thunder crashed against the window, earning a yelp from y/n, and they brought the covers up to their chest. Brahms looked at the window them back at y/n.

“Brahms… sleep with… y/n?” He asked, his voice light and childish. “The storm is… scary to y/n.”

Y/n looks at the window then back at Brahms. They put the doll on the floor then opened their arms. Was there a man in the same doll mask? Yes. Was he going to kill them? No… right? But, he did offer to sleep next to them. Feeling like a child, y/n nods and welcomes Brahms into their hold.

Brahms laid next to y/n and put the covers over their shoulders. He felt them dig their face into his chest as they silently cried in his shirt. The storm will pass soon, he knows it, but his nanny is afraid. His glass mask rests against their hair and breathed in their scent.

“You’ll be okay,” he says in his real voice. “I swear to you, y/n.” He’s a gentleman, a good boy, just as his mother taught him to be. “I’ll keep you safe from the storm.”

He pulls them closer to his chest and closed his eyes. He’ll stay here tonight, y/n.

That’s a Heelshire Promise.

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

Text

𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 ⎹ 𝓑.𝓗.

fandom horror / brahms masterlist / @dollshorror-library

featuring brahms heelshire x chubby nanny!reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning dubcon, mention of head injury, rough fingering, squirting, brahms uses his little voice

summary you finally meet your ward

word count 3.1k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

thanks so much @theluckychemist for another commission! ❤️

commission info & contact

you were locked in a fierce staring match with the open window. the window that hadn’t been open when you had just come downstairs to retrieve your laundry from the machine. it was the same window that had been plaguing you for days. you would close it, only to have it open again the next time you walked by. it must be the vicious winds during the past week’s merciless thunderstorms that were forcing it open at first, but today didn’t make any sense.

today, there were no storms.

the sun was shining, and there was a gentle breeze; nothing strong enough to force the old window as wide as it was.

just looking at it now made you feel queasy; now that you knew it couldn’t have been the storm.

both hands tight on the grips of the laundry basket filled to the brim with your freshly washed, wet clothes, you had to crane your neck to look up at the latch. you wouldn’t be able to reach it, not even on your tip toes. if you stood on top of one of the chairs from the dining room, and still pushed yourself up on to the balls of your feet, you might be able to stretch and reach, but you weren’t chomping at the bit to test the durability of an old, wooden chair that has been around nearly as long as the manor itself.

with a huff, you drop the basket by your feet and careen around it, stomping over to the window. you push it closed with both hands, applying pressure until you hear a faint creak, and a soft click. “Now, stay shut.” you mumbled under your breath, wishing that it was sentient and would obey your orders. you take a step back, looking over the glass for another moment. it’s streaked with dirt from the outside, which has turned to mud and caked itself in place. you should probably wash it next, you thought as you hoofed it back to the basket, hauling it outside to the clothesline.

you had been worried that this gig would be boring— watching an old house, a porcelain doll, and being alone all the time, but you had severely underestimated how much there would be to do. it was as if the manor was a living being, always needing to be tended in some way. you found peculiar messes here and there that you could swear hadn’t been there only days before, and your list of chores never seemed to end.

and, to tell the truth, you didn’t feel all that lonely, either. surprisingly, you felt like sometimes the little doll that was upstairs at this moment could actually understand what you were saying when you rambled on to it. you told little Brahms everything about your life, and how relieved you were to have some peace and quiet here for once. the faux child had become so comforting that you had eventually stopped putting him to bed in his own room, and opted for cuddling with it at night. your bedroom was also where you would put him down for naps, as strange as that may sound to anyone but you, and that’s where he was now. lying on your pillow with a soft throw blanket tucked in around him.

you thought about the little thing as you stretched a skirt, clipping the hem to the line. you were only supposed to watch him for a few days, but it had already been well into the following month, and still the Heelshires hadn’t come home. the strangest part was that you hadn’t heard a peep— not a phone call, nor a text, not even a note. and yet? yet, every Friday, there was an envelope on the floor by the front door, appearing to have been dropped through the mail slot, containing your pay for the week. how they managed to be so punctual and still so eerily silent was beyond your comprehension.

a particularly pesky blouse had you wishing that you had another pair of arms as you wrestle it on to the line, a pair of clips clenched between your teeth, and as you were clipping one sleeve, you catch a glimpse of something, a blur fading over the window. it startles you, and with a gasp, you drop the other sleeve and the clips into the basket. it was just a bird, you tried to tell yourself, a healthy crow had flown in front of the glass and you’d only caught the reflection. however, when you squinted against the harsh sunlight, you see the window— that damned window, is open again. “You’re shitting me.” you expel in a scoff with a shake of your head.

that was it.

you were locking that damn thing.

your footsteps were thunderous as you practically leapt up on to the porch and flung the screen door open. it slammed behind you, a loud testament to your annoyance with only you there to witness it. you hooked your arm under the backrest of the chair in the dining room and dragged it across the flawless, wooden panels in the floor, the legs hissing as if they were displeased to be treated so carelessly. unfortunately for the furniture, you couldn’t care less. you were at your wit’s end with this fucking window.

you slammed it shut. determined it would be the final time.

angling the chair in front of it, you grasp the back to pull yourself up on to it, and the legs creak. you were certainly not confident that the rickety thing could support you, but you thought it best not to think about it. get up there, lock the window, get down.

standing on the very tips of your toes, you had to stretch your arm until it nearly ached, and even then, only your fingertips could brush the lock. “Come on,” you whisper, before biting down on your lip.

the chair creaks again.

“Dammit…” even trying to bounce, you couldn’t grab the lock. “Almost…” cautiously, you push yourself on to one foot, hoping to propel yourself high enough to push the rusted bolt into place, but you were unsteady to say the least, and the chair had reached its limit. one leg cracks under the weight, throwing you backwards like a bronco that had just bucked you off. you hadn’t even the time to scream before you felt the back of your head connect with the hard floor, a white, hot shot of pain, the wind knocked from your lungs, and then… nothing at all.

complete.

utter.

blackness.

the first thing on your mind is how much your head hurts.

“Ah…” you groan, squinting as you reach for it. something pushes your hand away, and it falls limp. you expect it to hurt when your arm smacks against the floor, but that doesn’t happen. it hits soft, familiar warmth. your mattress? eyelids fluttering, you feel fingers, big ones with roughly calloused pads holding your chin, keeping your head angled. “Who…?”

“Shhh.” comes a soft voice. your lids part, your vision blurred, and you stare at a mass of red and white on the bedside table. it takes a moment for the haziness to fade, and you realize what you’re looking at. a bowl of water, tinted red, and a rag tossed over the rim, littered with red blotches. blood.

your blood.

your attention snaps from the bloodied rag to the body hunched over you. you smelled him long before you could make out his shape. it wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but the rather strong scent of sweat. you could feel his warmth— he was, after all, close enough to your limp frame.

“Who are you?” you blink, eyes trailing over the trousers, the damp, white undershirt strapped down with black suspenders. there’s a furious tufting of dark hair that sprouts from under the neckline, and it’s sparkling with beads of perspiration. “Who—“ you start to ask again, but your jaw hangs open as your eyes coruscate, higher and higher until you see his face.

no, not his face.

the doll’s face.

“Brahms?” it came out as a question, an incredulous one, although you already know it to be true, and the massive figure hesitates, before giving a little nod. he seemed to be inspecting the back of your head, you expected he had also cleaned the wound that must’ve been back there, if the bloodied water was any indication. “But… how—“

“It hurts?” you blink, startled. the voice is soft, childlike, and not at all what you would’ve expected from the mountain of a man lingering over you. “It still hurts?”

you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it uncertainly, but shake your head, glancing to the bowl again. “No… Brahms, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Did you tend to it?” another, shy nod. Brahms gently poses your head back on the pillow, and you resist the urge to wince. then, his rough digits fall to your neck, where they rest. “Thank you…”

he doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t move. he’s still hovered over you, fingers trembling against your throat, and you’re starting to notice how his chest rises and falls with heavy, muffled breathing behind the mask.

“Have… have you been hiding?” you ask, heart pounding against your chest, “All this time?”

“Mhm.” he answers, his fingertips dipping just under your neckline. they were timid to a certain extent, you could tell by the way he shook, but something else drove him to act beyond his sheepishness. starvation, perhaps? years without another person to touch. “But I don’t have to hide anymore.” he says, matter of factly, “Not from you. You didn’t leave me.”

“Brahms, I—“

“You’re mine.” those words sank deep into your bones, resonated like a pounding drum. his hand pushes deeper into your shirt, cradling your breast in his palm, and he lets out a blissful whine. you gasp, and reach for his wrist to stop him, but his other fist finds yours and pins it to the pillow above your head. “Mine.” he says again, this time much more desperate as he kneads your breast, snorting like a wild animal already. “Mine.”

you don’t want to moan, but you can’t help yourself. it feels good, despite Brahms’ roughness, and you whine as you squirm under his weight.

“Mine…” he moans, too, only fueled by your soft, heavenly sound, and squeezes harder, pulling at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger, “Mine!” only a moment later, he has your shirt ruffled up over your chest and tucked under your chin, exposing both of your breasts, and he’s straddling your legs to keep them down, both hands now focused on your heaving chest.

you’re confused, lost, because you know that you should fight back— try to push him off, at least, but you don’t. your arms stay where they are, up by your head, and your back arches when he gropes you particularly roughly. it had been a while since you’d been touched like this. “Brahms!” you gasped, breathless, “Easy, I’m sensitive…” but that only seemed to spur him to grab you more roughly, squeezing your supple skin in palms that felt like sandpaper until you’re writhing.

and his shoulders are bunched together, leaned forward to rub the porcelain mask against your bare flesh, inhaling deep so that he may smell the sweet aroma of your flesh through it, nesting the nose in your cleavage. “Please…” you mumble, but now you’ve soaked through your panties, just letting this strange man grab on you, and you no longer knew what you were begging for.

“Beg me,” Brahms grunted, husky, as he scooted off your legs, grasping the waistband of your pants and panties simultaneously to pull them down, too. “Beg me again!”

with your head spinning, you start to bring your knees up in defense once you’re bare from the waist down, but he grasps your ankles and pulls them straight, spreading your thighs with his knees to give him enough space to sit in between them. “Bra—hms—“ you stutter, uncertain, your hands shaking against the pillow behind your head. “P—please…”

he moans again, pathetic and soft, as if just hearing you say his name was edging him, and he cups your sticky sex with one, large paw. his movements are uncouth and base, driven by instinct alone. he forces one, thick finger into you without so much as a bat of an eyelash, and he whines into your chest, feeling just how warm and wet you are on the inside. “Feels good…” before you could even protest, another finger has joined the first, stretching you open. your nails dig into the fabric of the pillow and you cry out, squinting against the sensation. “So good!” Brahms mewls, pumping both of them knuckle deep. he doesn’t bother with being gentle— in fact, you didn’t think he could even if he wanted to, because every sound that you make is driving him crazier and crazier. “You… sound…. So pretty. Wanna hear more. I need more.” he’s mumbling to himself as he drives his fingers into you deeper, harder, trying to force the sounds from your throat.

“S—slow down, please!” you cry in desperation, eyes wide and focused on the dark ceiling. all of the tenderness of your skull fades to make room for the brutal finger fucking you’re getting. one of your hands flee to grab his wrist and try to force him into a slower rhythm, but he refuses, pumping even harder. “Too much!”

“I can’t.” Brahms whines, laying against your body until the smooth mask is smushed against your cheek. you can hear him now, breathing ragged and moaning, soaking your body with his sweat. “I can’t… Need to hear you…!”

if he hadn’t been pressing you into the mattress, you would’ve been thrown about the sea of blankets like a lifeless, rag doll with just how powerful his barrage to your sex was. your knees come up again, digging into his sides, trying to push him off, but he’s so much stronger than you that you can hardly believe it. the primal beast curls his fingers and you nearly come out of your skin. they’re just lengthy enough, and reach deep enough, to caress your sweet spot. you whimper, mouth hanging open. “That’s—“ you try to speak, but your mind goes blank.

that’s the spot.

keep going.

you don’t say the words, but luckily you don’t have to. the muscles in his arm tightens, and he drives those cruel fingers into the same spot, relentlessly, until you’re practically in tears. there’s a hard, thick lump in his trousers that he’s rubbed against you until he starts to soak through them, moaning and pleading, calling for you. you can imagine he’s already cum himself, just from fingering you. the thought alone is enough to turn your stomach, and somehow push you closer to your own downfall.

he wasn’t skillful, not in the slightest, but he was eager, and he knew the jackpot when he found it.

you can hear the sound of your cunt gushing before he’s even pulled back to marvel. a whiny, “Wait!” escapes your swollen lips, as if begging yourself not to come undone, but it was much too late for that. you were already swept away, your pent up frustration exploding in the form of a waterfall that drenches him from chest to groin when he sits back on his calves. you imagine it’s to marvel at you as you squirt for him; you can’t imagine he’s ever seen that before, and even through your slitted lids, you can see his eyes in the dark holes of the mask, as big as saucers. staring. your countenance scrunches in humiliation, but he’s still pumping his fingers, pushing your buttons from the inside, so you just keep spewing. “Brahms!” you cry, nails digging into his wrist, your body pushing itself in an arc off the bed, levitating, trying to escape him. “I— can’t—!”

you’re spent when he finally slows down, and you fall back against the bed and struggle to catch your fleeting breath, your whole body a sea of shivers and shakes. his head dips with a happy whimper, and he smears the expressionless mask over your dripping cunt, coating the porcelain in your cum. “Do it again.” he whines, amazed, nuzzling. you can hear his lips smacking, and you assume he’s managed to lap at some as it finds its way beneath the mask. “Please do it again. It’s… so yummy…” mortification begins to overtake the temporary bliss of your powerful orgasm and you’re stunned with it, face on fire as you listen to him beg for you to cum again.

“I… I can’t…”

“Why?” he sounds heartbroken.

swallowing hard, your shaking hands rest against the top of his head, digits combing through wild, chocolate tendrils. they’re damp with sweat— and, maybe your slick, as well— when you pet them, he seems to croon into your caress. “B—because… doing that makes me really tired.” you try to explain, convincing yourself that you’re not going to simply pass away from embarrassment. but gods, you felt like you would. “I have to… rest before I can do that again.”

his head snaps up at that, so abruptly that you jump, too, pulling your hands back. you were worried you’d done something he didn’t like. “But you will do it again, won’t you?”

you considered that question.

your stomach bunched up in knots.

“I—“

he nods, as if answering for you, snaking both big and powerful arms around your waist as he hugs your midriff tight, resting the side of his head against your navel. “You can only do that with me from now on. Until forever. Do you promise? You have to promise.”

“I… promise…”

#brahms heelshire x reader #brahms the doll #brahms smut #brahms #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire x you #brahms x you #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #slasher #slasher fandom #slasher imagine #horror

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b-00-biez · 1 year

Text

"Slashers with an S/o who cries when people shout at them"

Warning: cursing and a bit of angst

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire

Bo Sinclair

You and bo have fights but never to the point he yells or shouts at you. This time he was really angry because a victim escaped.

"I TOLD YOU TO WATCH THEM FOR ONE SECOND AND THEY ESCAPED, IT WAS THAT SIMPLE"

You bite your lip refusing to talk back as you lower your head until he is finished.

He sighed and made you look up at him. You were crying, big tears flow from your eyes as you looked at him. Your lips quivering and you looked away.

You both stood there until Bo broke and gave you a hug

It wasnt like those apology hugs your mom made you do to make up with your siblings

It was very sincere and tight

"I'm sorry doll, I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you. " he whispered in your ear so soft and gentle.

He sat you both down while you're in his lap as he caresses your back. You both stayed there holding each other in your arms.

He told Lester to find the victim which he did and killed so it was problem solved.

From today on he never raised his voice when he got angry, you both communicated better and you two would make up pretty quickly.

If any of his brothers did the same to yell at you then he would be throwing hands

All in all he learned to be gentle with you which his brothers never ever thought he could do

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas already knew you cried when being shouted at

Hoyt was never really a good tempered person and will degrade your self esteem the chance he gets but you would suck the tears back up and wont let Thomas know what happened.

This time it was something different

"YOU FUCKING WHORE, ALL THE SHIT YOU DID WILL PASS THROUGH TOMMY BUT NOT ME"

You were shivering, Luda mae was not there to save you or beat this bitch and tommy was busy in the basement.

Hoyt raised a hand at you, as you squinted your eyes to brace yourself of the impact you hear..

"Aye tommy i-i was kidding.. hehe.. your little doll there was..AAAAA"

Tommy was standing in between you and hoyt , holding the man's hand back.

Tommy almost choked him to death if it werent for Luda Mae finally getting home.

Your boyfriend kept you in his arms like a baby as he rocks you.

He mumbles and grunts to give encouragement

He wont let anyone of his family yell nor harm you

Brahms Heelshire

You weren't the best of care takers. You always followed the rules so you wont anger Brahms.

But since Malcohlm was running late and you needed the groceries you have no choice but to go to the store

You planned to just have a quick trip so that when you come back Brahms wont even notice. But he did , he saw you walk out that gate.

Brahms is an impatient man, a minute of you gone it's been hours to him. But when you come back.

He stormed screaming at you

"YOU BROKE THE RULES, YOU DARE LEAVE ME ALONE LIKE MY PARENTS?! YOURE HORRIBLE "

You tried to explain yourself with incoherent mumbles as you shake. He towers over you going silent, Hes just looking at you!

You broke down and into a ball

Brahms started to feel bad, at least you came back for him.

He left you alone and slid your favorite snack over to you as he sits on the floor with you

In his childish voice he started to say sorry , patting your head gently

If you're both stuck in this house he might as well treat you better

He hugs you not letting go until you stopped crying

-Just a quick reminder that if you experience this in real life from a spouse its best to leave them, although fights are normal among relationships they shouldnt mistreat you either way💕

#slasher fucker #slasher x you #slashers x reader #slasher imagines #slasher headcanons #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms the boy #brahms x you #bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher fluff #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt #bo sinclair headcanons

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bunny-pxp · 10 months

Text

Slasher’s in bed HCs, ( 3 Slashers ).

Hello, this is my first fanfic on my blog so the writing won’t be as good (aside from it also turning out bad because I’m half asleep). But, 18+ themes will be up ahead and Gender neutral reader. Slashers being ‘used’ : Bubba Sawyer, Brahms Heelshire, and Billy Lenz.

REQUESTS : OPEN

Bubba Sawyer

Even if Bubba did the terrifying things he does, he is still a sweet and innocent soul. So, when you had suggested to take things ‘further’ into your relationship he became a stammering, dark-red, nervous reck.. “Why would they suggest that”, was all he could think when you suggested ‘that’.

Though, he was nervous, he still gave in. As he wanted to make you as happy as ever and give you as much love as he could, resulting in you two having a ‘moment’ in the small bedroom you two shared.

When you two were getting ‘ready’ and undressed in front of him, Bubba couldn’t help but just examine and stare at your body, like if it was some beautiful peace of art that could easily please the eye. “ So beautiful “ was all he could think the moment he saw you drop your pants down to your ankles.

Bubba is an absolute mess when it came to the part where he had to undress himself, being dark red and holding his hands to his mask. As if he was hiding himself from you.. Resulting in you having to help him take off his clothes, which was a lot of work from how much he would squirm.

Soon enough, you two started to share a moment together.. Lying on your back on the small bed as Bubba took himself upon you, his hands holding themselves up on the sides of the bed.

Bubba is really sweet and gentle with you when it came to actually doing ‘it’ , entering you very slowly and giving you a few minutes to adjust to his thick size. And soon giving you slow thrusts

Bubba is showering you in kisses the whole time. Planting soft kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck, collarbone and everything he could reach from the position he is in.

Bubba is a little loud, from how much he moans, squeals, groans, etc. Poor Bubba just can’t handle the new feeling, he feels pleasure, excitement and love for you.

Bubba is a little touchy, as he slowly gets the habit of running his hand up and down your small body. Wondering how you could take his size and why exactly do you feel so much pleasure, but also enjoying the feeling of your soft skin grazing against his rough palms.

Aftercare from Bubba is just precious. He soon finishes and immediately curls himself up to you and covers the two of you with a blanket, as he runs his hands through your hair while he makes soft humming noises against your neck.. After your cuddle session finishes and you calm yourself, Bubba will clean you up and give you a new pair of clothes. (Which is always a shirt of his and nothing else, but you don’t complain much because of how comfortable they are).

Brahms Heelshire

When you first suggested taking things ‘further’ in your relationship with Brahms, he was immediately shocked at this suggestion as he never expected the relationship to come to ‘this’. All Brahms could think was “Are you lying?” Or “What?!”.. But as soon as you confirmed you wanted to do such activities he immediately became an excited mess.

Brahms didn’t hesitate one bit as he answered to your suggestion with a firm, “Yes.. Please.” , which resulted in you heading to the guest room in the house to have your special ‘moment’.

As the two of you got ‘ready’ to have this special moment, you sat on-top of the soft cushions that were placed on the bed and Brahms quickly followed behind you and sat right next to you.. Slowly placing his hand on you thigh and leaning into you, sharing a (messy) passionate kiss with you. All he could do was run his hands over your thighs and up your stomach the more he leaned into the kiss.

Brahms soon finished the kiss, but slowly started to tug on the bottom of your shirt, signaling he wanted it off.. And now. Which soon turned into him being fully naked as Brahms lied you down and placed a pillow right under your lower back.

Soon enough, you got comfortable by the pillow which was placed on your back by Brahms but this relaxation soon was interrupted as Brahms started to run his hands up your thighs and onto your knees, ‘using’ them to spread your legs open to him. Brahms held tight at your ankles so you wouldn’t dare to move and interrupt him.

Brahms is a little messy and rough when he does ‘this’, placing his tip right at your hole and not hesitating to immediately thrust into you. Moaning loudly as he does.

Brahms is very touchy, running his rough palms up and down your gentle skin. Touching at your ankles, shins, knees and thighs which he always made sure to give a hard squeeze just so he could hear those gasps that came out of you every-time he did so.

Brahms is extremely loud, from how much he moans and groans, such words as “Do.. So you like what I’m doing to you?” , “So so.. Good”, and “Mmmmmoree!” Coming out of his mouth while he thrusts inside of you, being sloppy in his pace as he just wants to get the best angle. He is practically begging for more even if he is having everything he could possibly have.

Brahms is extremely needy and controlling, begging at you to moan and talk to him from how much he loves the way your voice sounds when you’re in this situation. But controlling with you body, pulling at your ankles for you to moan his name or simply to bring you closer to him.

Aftercare from Brahms is not heaven or hell, it’s just ‘right’.. Brahms soon finishes when you finally get some ‘relief’, and immediately crawls up to you and holds you tight in his arms.. Wanting every last drop of attention from you. Kissing at your face so you could do the same back until he finally falls asleep in your arms.

Billy Lenz

You and Billy were sitting on your bed as he lied his head on your lap and had his hands above his head and holding right up to the sides of your hips, giving them light squeezes which in someway made you bring up the suggestion of do ‘that’. As soon as the words you spoke to him about being intimate, Billy practically perked up and a smile crept up on his face. All he could think was the nasty thoughts that built up in his head.

Billy immediately said yes, as he shook his head, bumping his head up against your lap. “Yes! .. Yes yes YES! Billy is so nasty.” He babbled at you as he quickly sat up and pulled you down, resulting in this ‘moment’ starting.

As you got ready for the ‘moment’ to share with Billy, you started to take off your clothes which made Billy practically drool at just the sight of your bare skin being shown to him, and him only. He was staring at you like you were a whole-course meal and he was a starving man about to dig in.

Billy soon gets out of his trance which was caused by your body and he follows your steps, clawing at his dark green sweater to take it off (practically ripping it in pieces in the process). And tugging down his pants, soon stepping to you and lying you down to start his ‘work’.

Soon enough the special moment starts as he places his hands on your ankles and pulls your legs apart so you could spread for him, Billy looks like a rapid animal about to prance at their prey when he takes in the sight you are presenting to him. You could see drool building up at the small cracks of his mouth as he starts to stick his tongue out.

As you brace yourself and close your eyes, feeling some relaxation come to you, it immediately gets interrupted by Billy. Who quickly places his tongue on your hole and gives it long and wet licks, groaning and huffing as he does..

He is an absolute mess! Drooling all over your hole and huffing onto you, he was hungry for you from how much he imagined doing these things to you. He’s lapping his tongue right at your hole and sometimes sticking it in just to tease or even taste you.

Billy is extremely touchy, running his hands all over the places he could reach.. Grabbing at your thighs and kneading on the soft skin that ran along them and giving them squeezes every time you would moan, (he loves the sounds of your moans, knowing he is the cause of all of your loud noises).

Billy is quite loud from how much he is moaning, groaning, and huffing.. “Mmmmuhh.. Tasty!” , “Billy is so.. nasty!” , “Little piggy is moaning just for me!” Is some of the things he is telling you or just moaning out in general while he licks you in a quick pace.

Billy is very sexual with you and just like he says, nasty. Rolling his eyes back as he licks at you and tastes you, his eye twitching slightly at every moan you let out, shoving his head into you, saying the nastiest things to you, or simply just being as sloppy as he could be. Whilst he runs his hand down to dick, giving it soft strokes which just makes him go more crazy for you

Aftercare from Billy is not so much from what you expected from him.. He does give effort though! As soon as you finish on his face he quickly licks up all the juices you left on him and soon cleans himself and you up with his tongue, after he ‘cleans you up’. He crawls up and ontop of you and gives you a messy kiss before getting up and putting a blanket over you, until he finally walks away so he could go back to his little hiding space. Leaving you curdled up in a blanket and panting from what he had just done.

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 10 months

Note

hey 😳 idk if ur taking requests but if u are could u write brahms w a high energy s/o (fem) who’s really affectionate and also a bit touch starved 🫢 annnnnd not to be cheeky but could u add nsfw 👉👈 i want this man 🥹

brahms with a high energy S/O who's really affectionate and touch starved

a/n: thank you so much for the request, i literally love writing about my favourite wall boy so thank you for this! <3 i'm so sorry it took so long

pairing: brahms x fem!reader

warnings: slight nsfw

brahms has always lived a pretty quiet life, with him being quite reserved and all. he's rarely ever been outside the company of his parents, so it's safe to say it takes time for him to get used to living with you

you still abide by his rules, but he never anticipated you'd be such a handful

after you put him to bed on a night, he'll sometimes hear you bustling around the house, preparing things for the next day

he once caught you sneaking around the kitchen one night, a cereal box held against your chest as you were on your way to retrieve a bottle of water

whilst he sometimes gets annoyed at the constant disturbances at night, there is something that he likes about you. you're extremely affectionate

you're always taking every chance to pull him into a hug, and he never complains about that

brahms loves to cuddle

he especially loves it when you're both lying on the sofa, his head on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair

you also find that you love how much brahms loves affection, because you've spent a large portion of your life alone, desperate for any form of human connection. it wasn't until you found brahms that you found that connection

you practically spend all your time with him, going through his routines of course, but also just spending time together

he sometimes hangs around the kitchen while you cook, leaning against you when you're not dancing around the kitchen that is

he sees you doing that a lot, dancing to music that he isn't familiar with, but he enjoys watching you, because seeing you happy makes him happy

in terms of the two of you being sexual, it surprisingly doesn't take brahms too long to be comfortable with it

he keeps the mask on most of the time though

but when he finally feels safe enough to remove it, he does and it only makes you love him more

you always make sure to hold his face when you kiss him and he still finds himself surprised when he feels your fingers skate along his skin

he's spent his entire life feeling rejected by people, first with everyone thinking he's odd, and then with his own parents caring for a doll the way they should've cared for him

you don't treat him like he's weird or unworthy of being loved

you make sure he knows how much you care about him, be it by the way you're so gentle with him when you're intimate, or when you find yourself inviting him to dance with you in the kitchen

you're both perfect for each other─two lonely people who have found love and acceptance in one another, and you wouldn't have it any other way

[Main Masterlist]

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

You know the “opposites attract” relationships?

How about do one with Brahms?

Brahms - clingy, protective, stiff

Reader - calm, trusting, soft

Brahms X calm! Reader

Thank youuuuu :)

❝clingy❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : brahms is one hell of a touch starved man and when (y/n) came into his life he expected her to be just like all the others, but she isn’t. In fact she embraces him with welcome arms so does that mean all those people who left him are because it’s his fault?

✭ slashers masterlist

The wind whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded Heelshire Manor, casting eerie shadows on its aged façade. (Y/N) had applied for a simple job months ago, never imagining how peculiar her new role would become. The advertisement had called for a caretaker, someone to oversee the estate's unique collection of antiques and curiosities. Little did she know, her main charge would be a doll of all things.

The first time she laid eyes on the doll, she was taken aback. It was an exquisitely crafted replica of a man, dressed in aristocratic attire from a bygone era. The porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to the owner of the manor, Brahms Heelshire, whose family had owned the estate for generations. The locals whispered tales of the Hellshire curse, and their peculiar fascination only fueled the sense of mystery that hung over the manor.

As (Y/N) settled into her role, her days were filled with dusting ancient furniture, polishing silverware, and, most importantly, attending to the doll. The instructions were simple: ensure the doll's clothing remained impeccable, the porcelain visage remained pristine, and its position on the mantel stayed undisturbed. The task was mundane, yet it carried an air of reverence, as if the doll held some deeper significance that transcended its appearance.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) gradually grew accustomed to her routine. The mansion's interior was an amalgamation of faded opulence and eerie silence. The walls seemed to whisper secrets, and the portraits of long-departed Heelshire ancestors stared down with solemn gazes. Every creak and rustle echoed through the hallways, keeping her senses on high alert.

One evening, as she carefully adjusted the doll's coat collar, she felt an inexplicable shiver run down her spine. A feeling of being watched settled over her, but she brushed it off as her imagination running wild. That night, though, as she lay in bed, she could have sworn she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze.

The following days brought a series of odd occurrences: a book left open to a specific page she hadn't touched, a teacup shifted slightly on its saucer. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing tricks on her, but each time she looked around, the empty rooms offered no answers.

It was on the night of a thunderstorm that everything changed. Lightning illuminated the mansion's darkened interior, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. (Y/N) found herself drawn to the doll, her fingers tracing its delicate features in the dim light.

And then, as the thunder roared and rain beat against the windows, she heard a whisper so faint it might have been her own imagination. "(Y/N)…" The voice seemed to emanate from within the doll itself.

Startled, she stumbled back, her heart racing. But then, as if responding to an unseen presence, the doll's eyes blinked. A shock of realization coursed through her: the doll was no mere doll; it was a conduit to something more.

"(Y/N)…" The voice was clearer this time, resonating through the room. She watched in awe as the doll's porcelain skin began to soften, its limbs shifting, as if a dormant life was awakening.

And then, from the doll's heart, a figure emerged. A man, dressed in period clothing, stood before her, his eyes fixed upon her with a mix of curiosity and caution. It was Brahms Heelshire himself, or a spectral semblance of him.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other in silence. (Y/N) was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, her heart pounding in her chest. But amidst the shock and fear, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

The man, or whatever he was, spoke softly, his voice tinged with both melancholy and yearning. "You did not flee, as others before you have. Why?"

With a steady breath, (Y/N) met his gaze. "I believe that even the most peculiar of situations deserve a chance to be understood. And, in all honesty, I've grown fond of the company, even if it's a doll or a spectral form."

A ghostly smile touched his lips, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "You’re courageous , (Y/N)."

And so, an unusual connection was forged within the walls of Heelshire Manor — a connection that transcended the boundaries between the living and the spectral. As (Y/N) continued her role as caretaker, the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire ventured forth from his hidden existence within the doll, revealing himself to her in a way no one else had dared to witness.

Over the course of the next few months and then two years, an unexpected bond blossomed between (Y/N) and Brahms. As the seasons changed, so did their relationship, evolving into something far beyond what (Y/N) could have ever anticipated. She had become accustomed to Brahms' spectral presence, his masked face a constant companion. Despite his initial mysterious aura, she found comfort in his company and the intriguing conversations they shared.

Brahms, for his part, reveled in the connection he had forged with (Y/N). No longer confined to the doll's form, he wandered the mansion's halls and rooms, always keeping a respectful distance from her. Yet, he was undeniably clingy, often hovering nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance. His touch starvation, accumulated over years of isolation, drove him to seek her proximity. Whether it was watching her read in the library or tending to the mansion's gardens, he was there, his masked face silently observing.

Their bond deepened, and with time, their relationship took an unexpected turn. The unspoken attraction that had simmered between them evolved into a romantic connection. Their feelings grew steadily, and one evening, as the sun set over the mansion's sprawling gardens, Brahms removed his mask, revealing his disfigured face to (Y/N). She met his gaze without flinching, accepting him just as he was.

They became a couple, their connection forged in the quiet moments they shared, the lingering glances, and the touch of their hands. (Y/N) found herself drawn to his vulnerability and complexity, and he was captivated by her acceptance and compassion.

However, even as their relationship thrived, an undercurrent of unease began to surface. Brahms, though no longer confined to the doll, remained deeply afraid of losing (Y/N). His history of people fleeing from his presence had left scars that ran deep. His clinginess intensified, a silent plea for her to stay by his side.

As the months turned into years, Brahms' fear only grew. He watched as (Y/N) went about her daily routines, her calm demeanor seemingly unfazed by his constant presence. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that his clinginess might drive her away. The fear of rejection gnawed at him, an invisible specter that haunted his every interaction with her.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows on the walls, Brahms hesitated before speaking. "I fear that my need for your presence might become unbearable," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes soft and understanding. "Brahms, you're not driving me away. I'm here because I choose to be. Your presence doesn't suffocate me; it's become a comfort."

He looked at her with a mix of hope and trepidation, struggling to believe her words. "But I'm constantly clinging to you, fearing that you might vanish like the others."

Gently, she reached out and took his hand. "Brahms, you're not alone anymore. I'm not going anywhere. We'll face your fears together."

A fragile smile graced his lips as he intertwined his fingers with hers, the weight of his vulnerability lessening, if only by a fraction. With her steady presence by his side, he dared to hope that he could overcome his past and embrace the happiness that had entered his life.

Their journey was far from easy, but with time, patience, and unwavering support, (Y/N) and Brahms forged a love that transcended the boundaries of the living and the spectral. And through it all, they learned that sometimes, the most profound connections are born from the places where fear and acceptance collide.

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limehaspassed · 11 months

Text

Brahms with a Petite S/O

(Brahms Heelshire x GN!Reader)

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A collection of headcannons/ imagines about Brahms being with a petite s/o who’s insecure about their height. This is basically a self-insert, not sorry.

P.S. you basically take Greta’s place.

Content Warning: Mentions of sex and praising.

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You’ve always been short your entire life and everyone, at some point or another, has pointed it. It’s been mentioned so much to the point that it grew to be a sensitive subject. You were self conscious about your height, how small you were compared to everyone else.

Despite how self conscious you were, men would jot on you left and right, flirting and making moves you didn’t want them to make. You denied each one of them, despising them for only liking you because of how small you were compared to them, as if you were nothing more than sex doll.

When you got the job as a babysitter for the Heelshire’s, you were beyond ecstatic when you can to the realization you were babysitting a doll. Children would often tease and pick fun of you for your height, so you were glad this one couldn’t talk.

Of course, you attended your duties, following the routine, glad to be out of the sight of everyday people. You even had a grocery boy so you didn’t have to leave the house, only downside was that he seemed to be like every other man you encountered, seemingly stricken with you at first sight because of your height.

You had a suspicion that someone else lived in the house when things turned up missing, when food seemed to disappear from the fridge, and when objects seemed to clatter about in the night.

This was confirmed when you and said grocery boy had gotten into a fight, you growing tired of his advances. He had backed you against the dining table, the force of you falling practically falling against enough to knock the doll off the table.

It shattered and your heart dropped.

That was when Brahms came out of the walls, showing himself to you. He practically looked over you, even though he was across the room.

He immediately went after the grocery boy, you don’t like to remember what happened next.

When had finished his business with the grocery boy, he turned to you. You heart had dropped, you stomach churning, and your palms sweating.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it. We can… we can glue it back together.” Your words came out in pieces, dear gripping you tight. You were almost sure you were going to die.

He didn’t kill you, in fact, he ignored the doll and walked over to you, now towering over you. You were scared to meet his eyes. He placed a hand on your shoulder, it wasn’t aggressive but it wasn’t quite gentle.

You looked up, your eyes connecting with his, his eyes staring back into yours. You felt even smaller in this moment, tinier than you already were.

You didn’t know what to do so you just continued to follow the schedule, grabbing at strings.

“It’s bedtime, Brahms.” You whispered.

He allowed you to lead him to bed, his hand slipping into yours as you led him up the stairs. Your heart had skipped a beat at how massive his hand was compared to you, your hand was completely engulfed by his. It only reminded you of how pathetic your body was.

You tucked him in and went to leave when he asked for a goodnight kiss. You reluctantly kissed him and he met you tenfold, grabbing you and pulling your close. You felt small in his grasp, smaller than you’ve ever felt.

When he had released you from the kiss, you said goodnight and left, closing the door behind you and falling to the floor.

What the hell was that?

The next day, you had resumed the schedule, but with the actual Brahms instead of a doll. It was odd and it would take some getting used to, but a part of you didn’t mind, you were quickly growing used to his presence.

Besides the kiss from the night before, he hasn’t made any advances and he doesn’t comment about your height.

Whenever he sees you struggling to grab something, he’ll grab it for you, not saying anything rude or criticizing you.

As months passed, you two grew closed to the point you were basically dating, you both slept in the same bed now.

When it was bedtime, he would lay down next to you and pull you close against him, wrapping his body around you. It comforted you, giving you a sense of safety despite the brutality you had seen him perform once before.

For once in your life, you didn’t hate your height. However, sometimes, you couldn’t help but retreat back to those insecurities. Whenever this happened, Brahms would come up behind you and wrap you in his arms, peppering the top of your head in kisses. Sometimes he would tickle you, wanting you to smile instead of frown.

Sometimes, kisses and tickles weren’t enough, your mind far too clouded by insecurity to even recognize his touch. That was when Brahms would use his words.

“Perfect for holding.” He would say, picking you up with ease. A part of you hated how easily he could pick you up but another part of you loved it, finding it fun to be picked up and held close to the person you loved

When that didn’t work, he would bring you over to a tall surface and stand you up on top of it. He would look up at you, his blood shot eyes creasing as he smiled.

“Your tall now.” He would amaze.

You would be forced to stand up there until you had enough of being tall, missing your regular height.

Sometimes these insecurities of yours will come out in bed, when the two of you are in the heat of the moment. His hands would rest upon your body and you couldn’t help but think about how much bigger he was than you, how small and insignificantly pathetic you were next to him.

He would praise you for the rest of the night, listing off different reasons why he liked your height, why he thought you were cute, the perfect size.

Usually he liked to be praised but he would make an exception for you.

Sometimes, as a mean tease, when you wanted to kiss him, he would refuse to bend down, forcing you to try and desperately reach his lips on your owns. This usually resulted with him being slapped on the arm. He would eventually give you the kiss, always whispering something about how cute you were when you were made.

In his eyes you were perfect, no matter how short you were.

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Thank you for reading and I’ll see you next time 🖤

Also, send me Brahms requests, please. I love my silly wall man but sometimes I find it hard to make stories about him. Help a person out :)

#slashers #fluff #gender nuetral reader #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #brahms x you #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms the boy #brahms the doll #brahms x reader #brahms headcanons

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funnyexel · 10 months

Text

A Routine

Brahms x Black Female Reader

Your eyes gaze down at the bloody glass shard sitting in his palm. He inched closer to you and you couldn’t help your unease.

“please don’t hurt me.” Your croak out, lip quivering as you look up to the grown man. His presence was eerie, intimidating and the blood on the sleeve of his cardigan wasn’t helping. Your jaw slacked in the slightest when his voice drastically changed to a school boys. Calling out your name, it was freaky to witness. He just stabbed your ex and you’re studying the change in his voice, its pretty comical. That little shit was an asshole anyway so technically, he had it coming.

“hurt…” he tilted his head to side, “..you?” stating a rhetorical question in his boy voice of course.

“Never.” He steps up, standing against you, a deep rumble and dominance in his regular voice. Full sentences escape your vocabulary when you stumble over simple words and shiver in fear. At your constricted body language, he drops the shard to the ground and sneaks his palms in your hands.

“I’ll be good. I will.” His attempt at reassurance was cute. Maybe it convinced you, maybe not.

“brahms.” His name fell like honey from your lips. A mere whisper of his name making him want you more.

“yes, pretty?” He matches your discretion, leaning down to your right to admire your features. Squeezing his hands, you chuckle dryly. When in an awkward situation you laugh stiffly and you could jump off a cliff because of the dumb habit. Releasing your hand and using his finger to move a braid behind your ear, he tilts your chin up softly. An acute whimper muffles through the mask. Your chest rises and falls roughly as you try to compose yourself.

“your hand..” you hesitate to let go of his other hand, infested with foreign blood.

“it hurts,” that damned voice is beginning to work on you. Looking down to his hand, your facial features display mountains of concern.

“no, here.” His hand travels down his stomach and over his pants. Your eyes shoot up to his shadowed irises. You need to get out of this, you tell yourself. With a moment of hesitation you remember the rules.

“brahms, you’ve been bad..” You scold to entice him and continue, “it’s way past bath-time.” Crossing your arms over your chest you hope to sell it. Walking up the steps, pausing briefly as his footsteps shadow behind you. Walking in the bathroom, you turn the faucet and plug the tub. As the water fills up halfway, you put a rag on the side of the tub and face him.

“well?” You swallow thickly.

“take off your clothes.” He does exactly that, stripping his top off first. Eyeing his toned stomach, a line parts his pecks, moving down his chest in a faint definition of a six pack and small waist, a treat. Closing your eyes when he gets to his pants, you only open them when the water splashes and swooshes around. Task of getting him to bathe wasn’t hard but it’s not the goal. The goal is to leave.

“Um, I’ll go find some clothes for you.” You project, rising from your position and detangling your hands from his hair. In the midst of it all, he grabs your forearm. A small yelp leaving your lips.

Skepticism clouding the air, searching your pupils he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for and lets you free, reluctantly. Walking out the tight space, you let out a deep breath, speed walking to your bag and shoving the important stuff in it. Your passport, wallet, phone, some clothing and keys…keys? Your eyes dart from the closet where you just looked and the dresser. This cannot be happening. Running to the dresser, you search the drawers two at a time. Under your breath profanities fly at your frustration. Your busy mind seems to notice the shadow to the right of you. Jumping out your skin and clenching your chest, you eye the figure in the corner. A breath of relief turns to a light stressed laugh.

“I didn’t think finding clothes would be this hard.” You cannot stop yourself from chuckling when you turn your back to the dresser, closing the five open drawers. He doesn’t move. Maybe you can make a run for it? The thought immediately shakes from your mind, his dripping hair and droplets glistening on his hairy skin indicates he hurriedly rushed out the bath, you weren’t being necessarily quiet once you started to panic. Taking heavy steps to you, your hands grip on the top of the mahogany dresser. Cranking your neck up to him, you swear you feel your blood count decrease when he grips your bicep. His four fingers rapping around his thumb easily when he yanks you with him. Your feet digging into the floor along the way.

“brahms.” Your small voice attempts to sound intimidating. Throwing you recklessly against the headboard, his arms drop at either side of his body, his breathing rugged as he shakes his head.

“you broke the rules.” His knee nudges into the edge of the bed, a hand lazily lying on your ankle.

“I…what rule?” You peal yourself off the cushiony board.

“my rule,” his towel shifts lower on his waist as he inched close, “don’t leave,” his voice mean and grown, anger coursing through him. Not giving you a breath to fabricate a lie as your strenuous gasps full the room.

“Tell me you won’t leave me. Tell Me!” He shakes you roughly, his voice the only thing your mind can register. Both your hands struggle to pry his paws off your neck.

“I…won’t,” your vision is plagued by small black dots and specs of static, “leave you…please.” You succeed in wiggling a finger in the tight grip for a small breath of air. Only for a whimper to leave your vocal cords when he crushes it too. The fight, defiance turns to submission as your arm falls limp to your sides. Blinking in and out of a black sadness.

“I’m sorry,” he hurriedly lets your neck free and holds you in a strangling embrace, his voice soft once more. Nose buried into his chest, smelling of fresh soap and vanilla. You lay stiff in his arms as he incloses your body to his. When he lets you go, you avoid eye contact and take in many breaths. Thankful for oxygen.

“it’s bedtime brahms,” you sigh, slumping your shoulders when you get off the bed. He watches you closely as you leave the cushiony oasis, taking regular steps towards the drawers. Flicking the light switch the room gets pitch black, feeling through the clothes you get your sleeping shirt. Stripping off your top and bra, you throw on the new top. A small lamp clicks on when you bend over to take off your pants. You knew he wasn’t going to leave the room so you didn’t bother to ask. Slipping into the bed, you see his towel hanging on the side table and stay on your part of the bed.

“hm..,” he pulls the covers from you to get your attention.

“yes, brahms,” you mumble, not moving from your position.

“kiss…,” he finally spits out what he was trying to say. Turning to him, you shift the covers off you and lean down to swiftly kiss the cheek of his porcelain mask.

“goodnight,” you manage to slump against the headboard before he grabbed your wrist.

“Kiss,” he demands, his voice normal and whiny as he sits up.

“I just gave you a kiss brahms,” you roll your eyes at him, earning a tighter grip on your arm. He grips the bottom of the glass and pulls it up off his face. The lamp illuminating a small part of his face and darkness consuming the other. Your pupils slightly widen at his features, they match his body and his skin looks soft to the touch.

“Kiss. Now,” he yanks you towards him, letting go of your wrist. Looking at his lips they’re a little chapped but moist in the middle, he was licking them. Putting one hand on the bed and the other on his bare chest, your lips connect. Warm mouths on top of each other in a ginger kiss. As your looking to lean back, he holds the back of your waist. Pulling you closer and splitting your lips to slip his tongue in your mouth. Gripping the sheets, it feels fleshy and hairy. He moans in your mouth, tilting his head to the side and you let go of his thigh. You attempt to keep the kissing at bay but his eagerness wasn’t helping. Breathing heavily through your nose, you push his chest so he could get off you. Gasping for air as your chest pumps up and down. He watches closely, pupils dilated and breathing irregular.

“night..brahms,” you exclaim between breaths.

“it hurts,” he whimpers, “fix it,” he looks down and your eyes follow, only this time you didn’t look away. Thickly swallowing, you spit in your palm, moving the sheets out the way, rapping your palm and fingers around his dick. Sharply he inhales at the touch, looking up to him, you move your hand up and down in slow motions. His body getting jittery with you in front of him, your big eyes making his cock twitch in your hands. Watching you lick your lips made him muffle a moan, his balls begging to be emptied somewhere.

Smoothing your thumb around his pink mushroom tip, you feel an ache between your legs at the precum beading down his veiny dick. His hands jerk to the hem of your shirt and roughly yanks it off. As he leans back against the headboard, he pulls you into his lap and goes stiff. Like he doesn’t know what to do next. Kneeling over him, you move your panties aside, wiping all the precum off his tip and smushing it around your two fingers. Trapping a moan in your throat when you coax your hole with his lube. As he watched you with wide attentive eyes, his hands begin to shake at his sides. Lining his dick up with his entrance, you sit yourself down on him. Successfully being waist to waist with him.

“so, m’ warm,” he breathes heavy, squeezing the plush of your thighs. Fingertips moving up and down, feeling the textures and wavy lines of your stretch marks. Your hips moving back and forth against him, moaning in guilty pleasure. It was horrible. But you loved it and cannot leave. He is too fragile, too broken, too sensitive for you to leave him alone. And he fucks so good. He satisfies you so you don't leave him and honestly, it works. You are in love with him. You will never leave him. And no one will ever take you away from him.

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