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#Brahms heelshire imagine
disasterofastory · 6 months
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A shocking night (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)
A shocking night // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 2/14 Warnings: shower smut, a bit dub-c, dead bodies
Summary: You meet Brahms, the living one, for the first time.
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It's so quiet you can hear the rapid beating of your heart as it tries to break free from the hold of your ribcage. Your chest heaves as you pant and gulp for air. Your lungs burn. You can feel the wild rhythm of your pulse at the tip of your fingers. It makes your limbs numb and frozen. It makes you stop from running and escaping this hellhole.
The entrance door of the mansion seems far away. Too far away.
Your eyes are on the man. He is the only one still alive. The other three lie on the ground, bloody and motionless. They chose the wrong house to break into. Your attention falls on them for a second before snapping back at the one who stares at you from behind his mask. The white but dirty porcelain is familiar. Too familiar.
"Brahms?" Your voice is high and panicked. At first, you think he doesn't even understand your question. He tilts his head to the side before nodding. His posture is still tense and ready to jump at any second if you dare to move even an inch. His broad chest moves up and down as he pants. The white shirt he wears is dirty and bloody, too. Everything is.
How is it possible? You heard about the history of the family who hired you. Malcolm told you about their son who died in the fire that still marks the outside of the house. That's why you were so accepting to take care of a toy. You had no idea what secret they hid among the tall walls of the mansion.
"Y/N?" Your heart stops beating for a second when a high, childlike voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the man in front of you. "Yes?" You ask back, gasping. "Are you going to leave?" He asks. It's a dangerous question. You hear the silent warning underneath his words. "No, Brahms," you force yourself to speak. "I won't leave you." He nods. Even through the mask, you can see the satisfaction that your reply brings to him. "Did they hurt you?"
Did they hurt you? You have to think about his question. You don't remember. Everything happened so fast. In one second, you were asleep, and the next, you woke up at the sharp sound of breaking glass. You went to see what it was, and before you knew it, chaos ensued. Brahms broke through a mirror and killed everyone. Well, expect you.
He steps closer, and your back presses against the wall as you try to keep your distance from him. His hand lands on your shoulder, sliding over the curve until he reaches your neck. His touch is surprisingly gentle.
Oh, now you remember. One of the men grabbed your neck when they noticed you. Your head is still dizzy because of it. And because of everything else. "I'm fine," you tell him. "Please, Brahms." Tears gather in your eyes as you stand still in his hold. "Please, don't hurt me." The man frowns behind the mask as he moves his gaze from your neck to your face. Your face is wet from crying. Your eyes shine with tears and panic. He shakes his head. "If you are good to me, I will be good to you." His words do nothing to calm you down, and his thin voice makes you want to cry harder. How is it even possible? The boy, the man in front of you, should be dead. Taking a deep breath, you reach for his hand still on your neck. His fingers curl around your fingers instantly. "We have to do something with… them," you tell him, glancing at the lifeless bodies behind Brahms.
You are not even sure what you should do. Call the police? You are sure Brahms wouldn't let you, and you would end up in prison without a question. Nobody would believe you. But maybe being behind bars would be better than staying here.
"I will take care of them," Brahms says. His voice is normal now, and you are surprised at how good it sounds. "What will you do with them?" You ask him. "I will take care of them," he repeats his previous words, and you get the hint. "Okay," you nod. "Take care of them, Brahms." At your instruction, the man's posture straightens. He almost seems happy that you told him what to do. "I will go and make some tea, okay?" You ask him. He is not happy about letting you go out of his sight, but the promise of warm tea after he is done makes him relent.
You know this is your chance to escape, but you can't make yourself do it. You are too afraid. And too tired. You sit at the kitchen island for what it feels like forever. You hear Brahms moving around in the other room, and you can see his dark form outside, but the greenery of the garden hides what he is doing. Well, you have a guess, anyway.
"Are you done?" You ask him when he appears under the door of the kitchen. He is even more dirty than he was. His boots are almost black because of the mud outside.
You have to clean up everything tomorrow. You stop at the thought. What? There is no way you will stay and play nanny after this madness.
When Brahms nods, you push the other mug his way, and he sits down in front of you. "How will you-?" Before you can finish your question, he pulls on the mask, and you get a glimpse of his thick beard and lips. "Oh." For long seconds, none of you say anything. Brahms just stares at you while sipping from his cup, and you look back at him with several unanswered questions. "Brahms," you break the silence after a while, clearing your throat. You are still afraid to say the wrong thing and anger him. As it seems, he has a sure place for dead bodies. He says nothing but watches you, waiting. "You were here the… whole time?" He nods. "And the… doll? It is just a toy, isn't it?" He nods again. The thought of him watching you without your knowledge sends unease down your spine. He was there the whole time, and you did know nothing about it. "Your parents," you continue. The words roll down your tongue slowly and carefully. "They wanted to protect you." You heard about him killing a little girl. Brahms nods, putting down the mug onto the wooden surface. It's empty. You have not enough courage to ask him why he did what he did. "You…" Your throat tightens. "You killed those men so easily." He reminded you of a feral beast, taking down those men easily and quickly. Even when they begged, Brahms didn't have mercy in his heart to throw them out and let them run away. "They hurt you," he says. His gaze falls on your neck, watching the dark bruise already forming on your soft skin. It makes him angry. "You came out to protect me?" He looks into your eyes again as he nods. "Will you hurt me?" He thinks for a long, horrible second and shakes his head. The dark curls on the top of his head frame the porcelain mask on his face. "The mask," you continue. "You can take it off." His muscles tense, and he shakes his head again. "Okay," you nod, looking at the clock on the wall. "It's late Brahms. You should take a shower and go to sleep." "No," he replies, and his voice is childlike and high again. You frown at his answer. "Do you want to go to sleep like this?" You ask him. He is dirty and bloody and sweaty. He shakes his head. "Then go and shower. You will sleep better." "No." "Brahms," you sigh. "It's late, and I'm tired. Please, just do as I say." After watching over the doll for weeks, you fall into your caretaker role automatically. "Will you be there?" "While you shower?" He nods. "If you want me there." You have to force your face not to grimace. "Will you bathe me?" 'No' is your first reaction, but you keep it yourself. He is so calm now. You don't want to do anything that can disturb it. "If you want to." He nods again, standing up. "Then go and get some clothes and meet me in your room, okay?" You can see he wants to argue for a second but decides against it at the end. He must be tired, too.
While you wait for Brahms in his room, your eyes are glued to the doll in the middle of the bed. He stares back at you. The dim lights reflect in his glass eyes. You are almost angry at it. There were moments during your time here when you foolishly thought taking care of a toy wasn't the biggest waste of your time.
A thought gets stuck in your head, and you frown. Your eyes are still on the doll when you hear the real Brahms's arrival. "Brahms," you say his name. He stops, watching your back until you turn to look at him. He holds his clean clothes against his chest. "Your parent. They won't come back." Your question sounds like a statement, but the man nods anyway.
You need several deep breaths to calm yourself. Upsetting Brahms won't lead you anywhere good.
"Come," you break the silence after a while. Your voice is surprisingly steady. "The sooner you get cleaned, the sooner we can go to sleep."
In the small space of the bathroom, Brahms seems even bigger. He towers over you easily, watching you put his clean clothes on the toilet through his mask. His heart is wild in his chest. He imagined you this close to him so many times before. Of course, he acted on his desires several times, but now you are awake. You know about him. And you will stay. "Take off your clothes, Brahms," you tell him, trying to look everywhere else but him as he slowly does as you say. "You don't like me?" His voice is a mix of his real and childlike pitch. You gulp. "Of course, I like you, Brahms." "Then why don't you look at me?" He is confused. You don't like how he looks like? Maybe you would prefer Malcolm instead of him? The thought angers him. That man is weak and incapable of protecting you. You force yourself to look at him. "I just thought you would feel uncomfortable," you lie. Oh. The man calms down within a second. How nice of you. "Now go," you tell him, pointing at the already running water. For a moment, you think he will obey again, but at the last second, he grabs your wrist, trying to pull you with himself. "Brahms!" You gasp. "What are you doing?" "You are dirty, too." "I will take a shower after you go to sleep." "No." "Brahms!" You don't stand a chance against his strength. The sleeve of your shirt is already wet. "Get in with me!" The anger is clear and powerful in his voice. Blood freezes in your veins at his sudden aggression. "Okay! Okay!" You gasp, afraid. With a quick step, you are under the water, too, letting your clothes get soaked and stick to your body.
Being so close to him, you don't have any other option but to stare at his bare upper body. His skin is several shades darker, with dried blood and dirt on it. His chest is covered in dark hair that barely hides his hard muscles. How can he be so fit while living inside the walls?
"No," he breaks the silence when you reach out for the sponge. "I don't want that." After his last outburst, you decide to let it go. Pouring some soap in your palm, you smear it all over his chest. Your lungs burn for air as you stare into nothing, trying not to think about what you are doing right now. You can feel his muscles quiver and move under your touch. "Am I a good boy?" Brahms asks, making you look up at him in surprise. "Yes," you reply. "You are a good boy." "I protected you." "You did, Brahms." "And good boys get rewards, right?" You gulp. "I guess you are right." "Then take off your clothes." Fuck. "I will take off my clothes if you wash your hair. I can't reach it." The man thinks about it for a second, then nods. By the time you reach for your shirt, he is already washing his hair.
Brahms's heart thuds in his chest as he watches you get rid of your clothes. Soon, you are bare and soft in front of him. Your hair is soaked, and small drops of water run over your skin, caressing the parts he wants to touch, too. His large palms almost burn with need, and his fingers twitch with need. "Am I still a good boy?" He asks, staring down at you. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is mesmerized by your breasts. Your nipples are hard peaks almost grazing his chest. "Yes." Your reply is barely louder than a whisper. "Then I can wash you too." It's more of a statement. "Brahms, I don't think it-" Your words end in a startled gasp as he tugs you closer without your permission. His hands are large on your back. His erection is pressed between your bodies. The friction makes him grunt. He caresses your skin, starting on your back and slowly but surely slipping to your front. His thumb flicks over your nipples, playing and teasing them. "Brahms!" You want to sound stern, but your voice trembles at the pleasurable feeling that goes straight between your legs. When he tugs on one of your nipples, your back arches on its own. He knows your body better than you think, and his little secret pulls a naughty smirk on his lips. "Y/N," he says your name, almost whining. "You said I am a good boy." "You are," you tell him. "But you shouldn't-" Your moan is loud and clear in the small room. His long fingers slip between your legs even when you try to close your thighs. "Let me get my reward," he says, on the edge of demanding. "I am a good boy, Y/N. I protected you from those men." "You did," you cry out, feeling him on your most intimate part. His fingertips graze over your slit, opening you up to caress you some more. He isn't sure what he is doing, but it doesn't stop your body from reacting. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. His breathing is heavy next to your ear, and his hips rock against your stomach. He grinds his cock to your skin for some friction and whines every now and again. "Teach me, Y/N," he says. "Tell me what to do to be your good boy." If he is a good boy, you won't leave him. You won't even try it. "M-my clit," you tell him, reaching down for his hand to lead him to the small buddle of nerves. "Rub it, Brahms. Here!" He does as you say, watching your face to see what feels good and what isn't. The man draws small circles on your clit while his fingers get soaked in your juices. He can feel the familiar pull on his balls as he continues to grind against your body. Your soft stomach feels like heaven on his aching cock. Your hands snap up to his shoulders, grabbing onto the man to keep your balance. Your legs shake, and your thighs open for his curious fingers. He feels proud when he notices it. "Call me a good boy," he pants demandingly. "Tell me I'm your good boy, and you won't leave me." His fingers on you move faster, rubbing and teasing. "You are my good boy, Brahms," you tell him, gasping and moaning. Hot coil burns in your stomach as you feel your orgasm approaching. "So good!"
You almost fall against the tiles when Brahms squats down in front of you. Your nails scratch over the wall to find your balance. For long seconds, you forget how to breathe as you stare down at the man's curly, wet locks in front of you. You can feel the cold of his mask on your thigh as he pushes it out of the way. "Brahms!" Hearing his name falling out of your lips in a shocked cry makes his cock jerk and leak even more pre-cum.
The scent of your arousal is thick and heavy in his nostrils. Saliva gathers in his mouth as he takes several deep breaths to burn your smell in his memory. When one of your hands finds his hair in a strong pull, he doesn't waste any more time. He leans closer and closes his lips around the small bud he teased a few minutes ago. The vibration of his moan strikes over your body. Your taste floods his mouth, and he can't help but crave more. He devours your pussy like his life depends on it. His tongue flicks over your clit, and his cheeks hollow when he starts to suck on it. "Fuck!" You scream, letting your head fall backward. "Brahms!" Your hips grind down on his face with fastened pace as you chase your release. His muffled whines and moans echo in the small bathroom, mixing with your cries until both of you reach your highs and fall over the edge. His cum lands on the ground until the still running water washes it down the drain while your pussy gets cleaned by his tongue. Your muscles twitch and jerk under every swipe on your sensitive center. "Good boy, Brahms," you gasp for air. "You are my good boy."
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nackrosor · 3 months
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~Your Wish~
(Pt. 2)
PART 1 - PART 3
Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader
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warnings/tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con/non-con, non consensual touching, somnophilia, Brahms is basically in heat
word count: 1,9k.
author's notes: I had to cut this part because it was getting too long and I wanted to stay in the 1k words limit... So... Part 3 👀??? Lmk
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Brahms had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that it had felt like ages—long,  torturous ages—until he considered it safe to leave his hiding place. His breathing was still ragged as he carefully stepped into your room, his erection pulsing insistently in his pants, aching with every step he took towards your bed.
There you were, sleeping peacefully, unaware of his presence, oblivious to the tumult of emotions you had stirred up within him. He had never seen you pleasuring yourself before. Did you touch yourself thinking of him? Envisioning a “real boy” keeping you company? His erection twitched at the thought. Oh, he could have helped you. He could have given you what you needed, if only...
You stirred in your sleep and he froze, holding his breath for a few moments.
Since your arrival, he had spent many a night standing in the darkness of your room, watching over you, hypnotised by your beauty and the soft cadence of your breathing. 
This time however was different. He could clearly feel it. The agonising aching in his pants was proof of that. 
Brahms had never allowed himself to get so close to you when he needed to tend to his own needs. He didn't trust himself. He didn’t trust what his twisted and perverted mind could come up with as obfuscated by an insatiable desire as it was; an intense yearning that he found himself able to suppress less and less each day, the more he watched you, listened to you, longed for you...
He didn't even know why he had entered your room. He'd simply opened the secret passage in the walls and moved towards you, drawn like a moth to a light source. 
He'd tried to crawl back inside the walls, to touch himself and cry your name as loudly as he was capable of, certain that you wouldn't be able to hear him, just like every other time he'd jerked off at the notion of you. He had attempted to ignore what he had just witnessed by leaving you alone... but he couldn't. His body refused to obey. It seemed as if you had enchanted him, as if your body was calling out to him, luring him in... 
Your words kept on echoing within his mind, your wish lulling him like a chant, instilling hope in his whole being, pulling the strings of his flesh like a master puppeteer.
You wanted Brahms to be real. He could grant your wish. He sought to grant your wish and make you happy.
You shifted position once more, this time lying on your back. The sheets slid slightly away from your body, exposing a portion of your torso and highlighting the curves of your breasts.
Brahms inhaled sharply through his nose. His gaze swept over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed form and what he could glimpse of the rest. As he swallowed drily, his Adam's apple bobbed hard in his throat. He could feel his resolve waver, his will crack. 
He could do anything to you. Anything his messed-up mind would push him to do. He could take anything that he wanted from you. Everything he'd ever craved. You were so beautiful... so vulnerable... lying there at his complete disposal…
The darkness would be the only witness. 
His feet moved by themselves, his hand trembling as it reached out to you. When the tips of his fingers brushed over the bare skin of your shoulder, he shuddered. It was as delicate to the touch as velvet, even softer than he had anticipated.
He leaned in closer, his mask nearly touching the top of your head, as he took a short sniff of your scent and moaned in delight. His erection throbbed at the familiarity. How many times had he reached his release point, sniffing the garments he'd stolen from you? However, breathing it in directly from your skin was hundreds of times better.
His fingers caressed your hair, then trailed the outline of your arm, slowly working his way down till he met the hem of the covers.
His gaze diverted to your face. You were sleeping so soundly. It seemed unlikely you would be waking up anytime soon.
His fingers didn't shake any more as they carefully pulled the blankets down, revealing your upper body. 
Brahms felt his heart leap and pound wildly, as if it was ready to burst his chest open. Yet the pain in his pants was far worse. It urged him to take action .
He clasped his hand around your wrist and pulled it toward his pants. His mask barely concealed the whine he let out once your palm made contact with his bulge. His entire body trembled with overwhelming desire. 
It felt like a sin. Something he would be chastised for. He should have been put off by the mere thought of it, yet this only made him more eager. More excited to let his perversions finally take the reigns. He couldn’t hold back any longer. 
The bed creaked slightly when he climbed onto it and onto you, encasing your legs between his. He leaned down and inhaled your enticing scent as he ran his nose along your neck and down your collarbone. His hands moved to your chest attracted to your body like magnets, palms closing around your breasts, groping the soft flesh from above the thin fabric of the nightgown you were wearing.
The cool touch of his porcelain mask travelling down your skin made you stir slightly in your sleep, your neck craning to the side allowing him more room, as if you were inviting him to keep probing your skin. He ripped the mask off his face with a grunt and dug in, lapping at your neck with hardly contained hunger. He heard you hum quietly in response and took it as a sign of approval. As his lips trailed on the surface of your skin, he travelled downward, slipping his fingers underneath the neckline of your robe and peeling it down. The sight of your exposed bosom heightened his burning desire, causing his erection to twitch unrelentingly. 
He couldn't help but kiss your breast, his lips lingering on your delicate flesh, wrapping around the sensitive tip. He moaned in pleasure, his hips jerking forward again, pressing against your body.
His careless movements caused you to hum louder and move again in your sleep, sluggishly kicking your legs. As a result, the covers fell further away from you, revealing your thighs. Your robe had rolled up in the process, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
Brahms stared down in awe at your figure, barely managing to hold back the guttural cries that threatened to spill from his mouth and startle you awake. He felt lured in by the sight of your thighs and in an instant his hands were on you again, fingers digging in your tender flesh. 
"Oh, my Y/N." His voice cracked with unbearable yearning as he moaned your name.
"Mmmh-?" 
He could hear you but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to wake you up, or maybe he didn't care anymore. He was too caught up in his heat-filled mind to bother worrying about anything else. 
He dipped, pressing his lips on your knee, and climbed up in a frenzy, leaving a wet trail of kisses and nibbles on your skin.
He frantically pulled your nightgown up past your belly, without ever taking his lips off of you. The moment your panties came into view, a sharp shiver coursed through his whole body, his eyes widened in hunger and he started salivating. Without delay he bent down again, pressing his nose against your heat to catch a whiff of your scent; your heady sweetness only made him more desperate, a whimper falling from his parted lips. Did you taste just as sweet? Oh, he was dying to find out.
You mumbled something incomprehensible while you wriggled under his persistent touch upon your body. And so you shifted again, turning to lay down on your stomach, unconsciously preventing him from reaching his desired destination. 
When you turned, Brahms felt a slight pushback, a grumble of discontent escaping his mouth, but it only took him a second to draw back in, urged by a primal need.
His gaze flickered to your bottom now in plain sight, his breath caught in his throat as he noted a wet spot right in the center of the cloth covering your heat. His hand moved as if it had its own mind, his fingers trailing over the damp spot before in a swift and impatient motion he pulled your panties to the side. He gasped as he looked down at your exposed folds, gulping at the way they glistened with your fluids.
He could not endure it any longer... He needed you... He yearned to feel his cock buried deep inside you... He'd fantasised about it so many times...  And now he was so close to actually making it happen... 
His body was a bundle of tensed nerves. He couldn't understand what was happening but everything ached and he knew you were the cause. Just like he knew you were the only one who could relieve him from this torture.
He'd never experienced such fierce emotions before. He had absolutely no control over them.
Brahms let out a sigh of relief as he unbuttoned his trousers, leaving more room for his swollen erection. His eyes fluttered closed in response, but only for a fraction of a second, unwilling to look away from the arousing sight of his fingers stroking your pussy, coaxing in your moisture and spreading your folds apart. 
His breathing was so ragged, it echoed through the old walls of your room. The only other audible sound was that squelch he caused by rubbing your labia, which only became more prominent the moment he buried his fingers inside you and started to move them in and out in a leisurely motion.
He had never touched a woman before. In the past, he had caught some of his previous nannies touching themselves; he saw what they were doing, how and where they lingered the most with their fingers but… he had never had the occasion to do it himself. Those women had turned out to be awful. They had disrespected the doll and by extension him. They were undeserving… But you… Oh, you deserved this and more… Yes. Yes. You deserved him.
A moan escaped your lips, and he felt you stirring more than you had before.
With a jolt of fear mixed with excitement he sensed you were about to turn and immediately reached over for his mask, securing it back on his face. With his other hand he pressed down on your spine to pin you on the mattress and prevent you from moving. 
"Mmmmh? W-what…" your voice was barely audible, your words slurred by your sleepy state.
He should have left you there, still half-asleep. He should have stopped right then and there. Made you believe that whatever you had felt that night had merely been part of a dream. He should have holed up in his walls and kept himself hidden for a little while longer before showing himself to you… before giving you what you deserved… and taking from you what he deserved… 
He should have been a good boy… 
But he couldn’t. 
Oh, no he couldn’t. He had gone too far, it was impossible for him to stop.
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[I'm almost certain I will indeed write a third and final part for this but please let me know if you would actually like to read it! 🌹]
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[Also, consider leaving a tip here on Tumblr or buying me a ☕ if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]
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Tags: @shondlenoodle @lonely-girl2423 @mellsfern @inlovewithquestionablecharacters @dij-ology @things-you-cant-say-tomorrow-day
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alomone · 3 months
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Brahms Heelshire x gn reader
: ̗̀➛ "I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention."
Requests and asks are open
gif's not mine so credit to the person who made it! hope you enjoy!!!
Masterlist
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Brahms, who can't help himself but whine when you're not giving him your full attention. What do you mean, you have to prepare the dinner and you don't want him bothering you? That will not be happening. He will totally wait for you outside of the kitchen's door, or even directly staying behind you to watch your every move, hoping that you will finally stop whatever you were cooking and spend some time with him. :(
Brahms, who stand at a window when you're in the garden, looking like a kicked puppy because you had work to do outside. He felt anxious that you were going to just leave him there so he keeps a careful eye on you.
But the moment you need some alone time, Brahms will try to give you some time but not without coming back a few hours later because he got bored and wanted to be with you.
You could be enjoying some free time reading when he would appear, demanding your attention. "Here, just hold my hand!" You giggled as you could see Brahms looking at your hand now intertwined with his, having that warm feeling in his chest again. He won't leave your side during the entirety of you reading.
"I'm not going anywhere, you know? You don't have to follow me around" You acknowledged that he had some issues but to the point of never leaving you side? Might be a bit much, you didn't really care tho, like Brahms, you could quickly feel lonely in this big house. Having a warm presence in your company wasn't really a problem.
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Text
Haunted
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part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six
pairing: brahms x gn!reader
summary: in which the boy who haunted the heelshire mansion finally comes home
warnings: smut, somnophilia, DUBCON, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, scarring, mentions of abuse
a/n: so this is the final part to this series. i hope you have all enjoyed the series so far, i certainly enjoyed writing it. and thank you to everyone for reading and giving feedback, i really appreciate it. <3
word count: 1956
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Calloused fingers were desperately digging into the flesh of your hips, your joggers pulled down to your knees, as you slowly came into consciousness.
You could feel his hair tickling the back of your neck as he gently thrusted inside of you, coaxing a quiet moan from your lips.
Last night was still fresh in your mind, the smooth porcelain of Brahms' mask against your lips, his growing erection beneath your hand. And now here you were, feigning sleep as Brahms continued to gently push himself inside you.
Another soft moan fell from your lips when he started to pick up the pace, his grip on your hips becoming tighter.
You could hear him groaning behind you, as he brought himself closer to his release, all the while you were remaining limp in his hold.
Brahms hadn't realised you were awake yet, he was too busy focusing on burying himself deeper inside you, dragging more quiet moans from your throat.
Something about using you like this seemed to spark excitement in him, it made him feel alive. He hoped you could at least feel him though, he hoped your moans were a reflection of the moment you were currently sharing.
Unbeknownst to him, however, you were desperately fighting the urge to push back against him, your need for him becoming unbearable. Heat was pooling in your stomach, your skin feeling as though it had been set alight, and you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to pretend you were asleep.
Fortunately, you were able to remain still, allowing him to continue using you. And once he was finished, you felt him carefully pull out, the mattress lifting behind you as he got up. And you remained where you were, unmoving, as you listened to the sound of his footsteps leaving the room, your door closing behind him.
You decided to wait a moment before getting up, thoughts about what just happened still swirling around your head.
Your stomach was still tingling with excitement as you laid there, clenching your thighs together. You wondered if you would see Brahms around today. You hoped you would see him.
Once it was finally safe for you to move, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you contemplated what just happened.
You hadn't expected things between you to escalate so quickly, yet here you were, your breathing still shallow, and your skin on fire.
You had never thought Brahms would be comfortable moving so quickly like that, but it was clear you had him all wrong. You were just struggling to decide how you would show him your thanks, without scaring him away.
~*~♡~*~
Two slices of toast were waiting on the kitchen table when you finally made it downstairs, a cup of coffee placed beside the small plate.
You couldn't help the warmth that filled your heart as you sat down, picking up a slice.
"Thank you, Brahms!" You called out, your lips pulling into a grin as you ate your breakfast.
You had forgotten what it was like to be happy, and you never thought that you would find happiness again, much less, in the boy who haunted this house.
This place really had become your sanctuary, and you wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
You tried to eat your breakfast slowly, in the hope that maybe Brahms would join you. But even as you got to the last bite, he still hadn't showed, leaving you alone in the kitchen. He had to show up at some point today, surely.
~*~♡~*~
You tried to fight back the disappointment as you tucked the doll into bed, pressing a light kiss to its face.
You'd gone about your day as usual, hoping that Brahms would show at some point, except he never did. You understood that he probably wasn't comfortable around people, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
You thought that after last night, and this morning, that you were making progress with him. You thought that maybe he might be comfortable enough to spend the day with you. Clearly you had gotten it wrong.
Once you were certain you had finished all your tasks for the night, you decided to just go to bed. You weren't really in the mood to do anything else.
But when you entered your room, you almost jumped out of your skin, a dark silhouette lingering by your bed. Brahms.
"You know, you really shouldn't do that." You sighed, walking towards your bed.
He just cocked his head at you, clearly confused.
You just ignored his confusion, simply choosing to keep talking. "I missed you today."
Silence.
"Look, I get that you're shy, but could you try and talk to me?" You asked, moving towards your wardrobe to find your pajamas.
"Kiss?" He finally answered.
You turned around to find him still standing beside your bed, his fingers nervously tugging on the sleeve of his cardigan. You were unable to contain a smile as you watched him from across the room. He looked so unbelievably soft like this, standing there waiting for your response.
You just abandoned your pajamas, walking back towards the bed before gesturing for Brahms to join you under the covers, much like you had done last night. And he quickly complied, sliding in next to you, his eyes still very much visible to you in the dark.
"Do you think I could kiss you...somewhere else?" You asked him, carefully resting your hand over his crotch to let him know what you meant.
You heard him quietly gasp beneath the mask, before he gave you a small nod.
You offered him a silent nod in response, before sitting up, gently pulling the covers from both your bodies.
Brahms watched your every movement as you brought your hands down to his trousers, carefully unzipping them and pulling the material down his body, his already hardening cock now coming into view.
"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" You told him, looking right at him as you wrapped your hand around his length.
He just gave you another small nod, his eyes never leaving you as you leaned down to press your lips to his tip, earning a sharp inhale from him.
Brahms could already feel his pulse quickening and he thought his heart was going to shoot out of his chest when you finally closed your lips around him, effortlessly taking him into your mouth.
He was no stranger to the notion of sex, but he never thought it could be like this, so tender, so extraordinary. He had thought what he'd felt this morning was the best thing he could've experienced with you, but clearly he was wrong, because feeling your lips moving around him like this was like heaven to him. He wanted to know what else you could make him feel.
It didn't take long for you to bring Brahms to his release, taking only a few more moments of sucking him off for him to come, the warm salty substance coating your tongue.
You couldn't hide your smile as you pulled off of him, swallowing quickly, as you watched him attempting to catch his breath, his chest heaving.
"Did that feel good, Brahms?" You asked, crawling up the length of his body to straddle his lap.
He nodded.
"Use your words, Brahms." You urged, smiling at him as he sat up slightly. "Please?"
"Yes." He finally answered, although he was no longer looking directly at you, as his eyes were focused on where you were currently straddling him.
You were already feeling that familiar fire coursing through your veins as you looked at him, gently bucking your hips over him. "Please touch me, Brahms."
He complied, reaching down between you to press his fingers to your clothed cunt, his other hand fumbling with the button on your jeans.
"You can take them off." You assured him, your eyes never leaving him as he continued to stare at your crotch.
You waited patiently as he popped the button open on your jeans, pulling the zipper down, and you helped him remove the material, finally managing to discard them on the floor.
You then slipped your underwear down your legs, dropping them to the floor along with your jeans, and suddenly you were much more vulnerable now.
He cautiously moved his hand back between your legs, his fingers brushing your clit. And you found yourself gripping onto his shoulders as he continued rubbing his fingers against you.
"Oh, fuck." You sighed, your skin growing hot as you screwed your eyes shut. "Brahms."
When he finally pushed one of his slender fingers inside you, you gripped his shoulders even tighter, your head falling forward as you tried to keep your composure.
You had never felt such intense pleasure as you did now, with one of Brahms fingers moving carefully inside you. It felt incredible, and you were unsure just how long you would be able to last like this.
It didn't take long for the heat to begin building in your stomach, your grip on him becoming even more forceful as you rocked your hips into his hand, desperately chasing your release.
And Brahms found himself completely in awe as he watched your face, your eyes clenched shut and your mouth agape. It was him who was pulling such a reaction from you, and he felt a strange sense of pride from it. Maybe he could get used to this with you.
It only took a few more pumps of his finger for your release to hit you, pleasure wracking through your body as you cried out his name.
And when he pulled his hand away, you almost flinched from the sudden emptiness.
You climbed off of him, laying down beside him as you caught your breath, and you had never been happier.
"Brahms?" You spoke, gaining his attention as he turned to look at you. "I want to kiss you."
He knew what you meant by that, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to comply to this particular request. He thought about it for a moment, worried that he might scare you away. But as he looked at you, all he could see was sincerity in your eyes. He looked at you and he saw home.
Finally, he reached up, anxiety rising in his chest as he pulled the mask away from his face, revealing the very thing he had been hiding beneath.
And when you saw the scarring across his face, the sadness that you had initially felt for him returned, your chest growing heavy as you took in the sight. It seemed he had been more broken than you thought.
It reminded you of why you had come here in the first place. The memory of your father came to you like a stab in the chest, old injuries once again making themselves known. The countless bruises, both physical and emotional.
You fought to hold back tears as you stared at Brahms, noting the shame in his eyes as he awaited your response.
So you leaned closer to him, placing a gentle hand on the side of his face, before pressing your lips against his, the tears finally escaping from your eyes.
When you parted, Brahms noticed the tears that now stained your skin, so he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers gently wiping them away.
He had lived in this house all his life, but not once had it ever felt like a home. At least not until you.
And now, as he watched your face in the dark, his fingers gliding along your skin, he knew he was finally home.
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[Main Masterlist]
tags: @bdudette @r02eg0ld @maxismp1 @smileykiddie08 @hamburgerslippers @partssoldseparately @kalinaselennespeaks @kkleve3 @slasherenthusiast @thatoneautor0123 @slasheerwhore @goodiesinthecloset21
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bibibudin · 7 months
Text
Sub!Brahms Heelshire x Reader
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THIS ACC/POST IS 18+ SO MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!
Follow me on my new account @bibibudin666 where I’ll be posting more content there :-)
Just a little somethin somethin I put together while I work on other things hehe~ Hope you filthies~ enjoy!!
warnings: (that I def forgot to add before)
handjob, begging, blood drawing (very minor just a lip bite), cum. pretty sure that's it hehe~
Check out my new Brahms POV Drabble here!!
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His face was glued to your neck, pressing the porcelain nose onto your skin it burns cold like ice. His tousled black hair tickles your chin, you bring your hand up to stroke his curls as he nuzzles into you deeper. Your other hand is wrapped around his cock as you pump him nice and slow. He couldn’t control the whimpers that fell from his lips as you pleased him. 
He deserved this treatment you were giving him. Throughout the whole day he was being such a good boy for you and Brahms is well aware that good boys get good rewards. His eyes screwed shut, reveling in the feeling of your hand on him. He didn’t want it to end. He was so close to finishing but he wanted to stay in this euphoric state just a bit more, so he held back his release. Trying to delay it as much as possible, as hard as it is for him. 
His whimpers only grow louder and louder, like music to your ears, he sounds so beautiful. There’s nothing you enjoyed more than making the tall brooding man melt like putty under your hands. 
“Come on Brahmsy, I know you’re close. Just cum for me hmm?” 
He lets out a groan at your words, a complete 180 from the sounds he was making before. You feel yourself ache at his noises, you grip him tighter, wanting him to hurry and finish. Although you want him to cum, the night was far from over. This would only be the first of the night considering you plan on making him beg for you for hours to come. 
“Not yet…” He pants, his quiet voice barely reaching your ears. 
Your soft pets at his hair halt when you swiftly grab his locks, yanking his head from your neck so you could look into his teary eyes. 
“You cum when I say, so cum Brahms.” You demand. 
You couldn’t see him bite his lip under his mask, the metallic taste coating his tongue as he draws blood. He mustn’t disobey your orders now, not when he was being so good for you all day. His eyes screwed shut as he finally let himself reach his peak. Your hand movements not faltering as you carry him to the end. You can feel the hot thick liquid coat your hands and stomach. You coo at him and kiss his cold cheek in the process, slowly slowing down your strokes. 
When he’s finished you bring your hand up to your mouth and taste him, the saltiness melting on your tongue as you lick up every bit of his release on your hand. He whimpers again at your gestures, admiring the site. When you’re finished you smile delicately at him. He’s so in love with you and everything you do. He’d do anything, kill anything to make sure you’re safe and happy. 
After you finish you cup his face in your hands and plant a kiss on his porcelain lips. He closes his eyes as to kiss you back and you pull away slightly. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and he gets lost in the color of them. He then nuzzles his face into your hands, wanting you to touch him more. You don’t give him the satisfaction just yet. 
“Let’s go upstairs, yeah? I’m not done with you just yet, we still have a whole night ahead of us.” You say calmly, looking deep into his eyes. 
He nods and lets you take his hands in yours as he follows you up the stairs, where the rest of the night takes hold.
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If you enjoyed make sure to like and rb, hey why not leave a little comment too hehe~ thanks for reading OKAY BYEE!!
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@stephisokay
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outerrimhours · 1 year
Text
Brahms Heelshire X Fem!Reader
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{Part One} / {Part Two} / {Part Three} / {Masterlist}
Notes: I most certainly sat in the dark by candlelight listening to dark classical music when I wrote this.
Warnings: Smut, needy virgin Brahms, sub Brahms, 
Song: Ghost Song - Max Ablitzer
Without the candlelight, the guest room is crepuscular. Shapes of the furniture almost discernable in the flickering ivory gleam. The silk of your nightgown glowing with the kiss of a fire’s light. It had been too many nights alone, but you knew Brahms was okay when the new book you had bought him from the store disappeared. Your perfect ink penmanship written along the opening, “Even in the darkest nights, your spirit lingers. Mine ever waiting for its presence.” 
As you leaned down to blow out the first candle, a shadow crept and elongated against the floorboards. The Hillshire phantom lingered in the doorway of your room, peering at you through porcelain eyes. 
“Brahms”, you whispered, eyes fluttering at the sight of him in front of you once more. 
He studied you with soft, observant eyes like an artist in the Louvre, drifting and lingering over the shadows in the candlelight. A shift in the atmosphere, like drifting weightless through water. 
No matter how many times he laid his eyes upon you, you stayed the most intricate thing, blessed by an absolute delicacy that he so craved and desired. 
Your eyes lingered by his throat, watching him swallow, down until your gaze met the dip in his chest, fingertips aching at the fascination to touch him. 
You stepped forward, reaching tentatively out to grasp his wounded hand. Pink, angry scars littered the pallid stretch of skin and you pulled it towards your eager lips, placing the softest kiss against the flesh. 
You swore you could hear the faintest gasp when you guided it to your chest, allowing the warm, claminess of his palm to rest against your beating heart. Wild and eager against his own pulse. His eyes drifted, gazing under hooded eyes at the low cut edge of the gown. 
Too many nights Brahms dreamed of how you would feel. Heart raging with ragged breaths, he stepped closer. Electricity prickled his fingertips at the smoothness of your arm, dragging long, eager fingers down the flesh. Goosebumps rising. 
“I would never leave you”, you proclaimed quietly, guiding him to the oversized bed. 
You guided him to sit, the anticipation in his stomach almost making him sick. 
Slow, deliberate fingers guiding the cardigan from his shoulders, suspenders along with it. You loved the curves and veins that adorned his shoulders, arms, over his hands. Hair darkening over the milky skin. 
You laid him back, candlelight catching the edges of your lashes in liquid gold, bathing you in an almost angelic glow, casting shadows on the wall. You couldn’t look away from his eyes, they moved with every movement you made. 
“Let me kiss you”, you asked, fingers gripping the edge of his mask, begging for permission. 
Brahms  would do anything you asked for in that moment, all you had to do was utter the word. 
At the nod of his head, you released the cover, allowing your eyes to bask in the gloriousness of who he was. Beautiful, anomalous. At the stroke of your thumb against the scarred skin of his left side, his eyes closed briefly in a moment of peace. 
You hadn’t even kissed him yet, and yet he was already achingly hard beneath you. 
You leaned down to kiss his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the angular sharpness of his jaw and the stubble that sat against it. 
“Be a good boy for me and be so still”, you breathed, ghosting your lips over his own.
Brahms eyes were so blown out, needy and lustful as they looked up at you. The darkened pupils almost swallowing the pale blueness completely. And when you finally met his eager lips, he whimpered against you. Everything in him screamed to reach out and grab you, kiss you harder, but he obeyed your command. 
You tasted like the salt air of the English sea. Like fire to gunpowder, he consumed your mouth against his own, head swimming with desire. When your lips left to wet his throat, Brahms propped himself up on his elbows, head tilting back to allow you full access. Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each swallow of saliva. Cold hands reached to lift the fabric of his wife beater, knuckles grazing against the hardness of his stomach, the soft pillowy hair that sat against it. Brahms couldn’t help when his hips bucked slightly to meet your center. Ever so satisfied when you allowed the faintest gasp to slip through. 
At the sight of his bare chest, you allowed the straps of your gown to fall ever so slowly down your arms, the tops of your breasts so perfectly teasing his line of sight.  
You hovered over him, thumb brushing against the swollen, pouty flesh of his lip commanding him to open his mouth for you. His mouth sucked softly against the thumb of your hand, needy, desperate huffs escaping his throat when your other hand reached down to unbutton the top of his trousers. 
He was already soaked when you released him from the confines of his clothes, precum leaking from the tip. When your hand wraps around his cock, he can’t help the boyish, guttural whine that builds from his chest. Gently shushing him, you move to kiss his chest, soft pillowy lips lingering over every inch of skin. The soft hair of his chest tickles your nose with every further movement. Your touches ignite a fire against his skin, and he’s shaking at the anticipation, eyes wide and waiting. 
You savor the way his stomach heaves with every nervous breath, your eyes never leave his the further you trail, saliva now cold against the places your lips had been. 
When your tongue finally found its place on his cock, ever so slightly licking the precum, Brahms cried out, fingers gripping through your hair, desperate to thrust into you. 
“You’re being so good”, you praised tenderly, igniting a flame so deep in his belly drool couldn’t help but drip slightly from his parted lips. 
Feeling the warm wetness of your mouth sink down upon him was the most intoxicating feeling Brahms had ever felt. He almost wanted to cry, the way his chest felt so heavy and breathless. 
Soft, little gasps left his lips every time you moved against him. Brahms was being so, so good for you and as a reward you slipped the dress from your body, letting his eyes take in every exposed inch of your bare skin. 
Hand wrapped ever so softly around his cock, you leaned up to lick the saliva dripping down from his lip and onto his exposed neck. 
“Please”, he cried out, one of the first words he had spoken all night. “More, I’ll be good, I swear.” 
Your hand teased him, slowly pumping up and down, fascinated by every whimper and cry until you felt him harden even more in your hand. 
Cum spilled over at every praise of your words,
“Such a good, sweet boy.”
He was gasping, desperate for air. The wetness between your thighs dripped down onto his leg, hair falling over your eyes, lips parted and mesmerized by him. He couldn’t help the arousal that quickly returned. 
“Be so, so still for me Brahmsy.”
You straddled his waist, cunt warm and eager to feel him inside of you. Brahms was so overstimulated, face flushed and feverish. Ragged, guttural breathes and moans at the sight of you on top of him. He wanted to reach out and feel your breasts between wanting fingers. You sunk down on to his cock, cum warm against the innerness of your thighs, tangled in the hair at the base of his cock. 
Brahms growled at the feeling of your cunt squeezing and constricting around him, hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. Sweat beaded over his skin, eyes so innocent and wide watching you ride him. He whimpered so helplessly, and when your hand reached to massage your clit, he choked on the babbles that he cried out. The most you had ever heard him talk. You hiccupped and gulped at the building pressure, reaching around to the softness of his hair to guide him into a sitting position. You allowed his arms to wrap around you tightly, forehead pressed against your own to peer into your eyes as you came. Crying his name over and over and over. Encouraging him to cum for you once more, tears brimming his eyes and threatening to spill over.
“There you are, cum for me, just like that. Such a good boy”, you cooed, his own cum coating your insides.
You were both heaving and shaking, holding each other tightly against sweat glistened bodies.
“I love you, truely, dearly, forever”, you said, kissing the tears that managed to slip down his reddened cheeks.
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amomentsescape · 27 days
Note
Lol can you do slashers or brahms reaction to an s/o who also has various masks and is a vulture/bone collector saying "this whole time I've been secretly a weirdo, now you're gonna see the true me and you CANT LEAVE" 😂
Brahms with Weird! Reader
Brahms Heelshire x Reader
A/N: Don't get me wrong, I love these specific and niche requests, but I have no idea how to title them :') Please, bear with me for these boring headings.
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It's kind of difficult to hide anything from Brahms
Especially when you both are living under the same roof
And when he literally stalks you from the walls 24/7
He keeps his eyes on you constantly
So it's really no wonder that he felt like the needy odd one in this relationship
You literally thought he was a doll during the first few weeks of meeting him
Brahms always thought it was weird how quickly you just accepted the whole situation when he showed himself to you
You didn't even bat an eye and simply smiled, happy that he was real after all
Since then, he had kept an extra close eye on you out of insecurity
I mean, there's no way you were this cool with his odd behaviors and possessiveness
There had to be a catch, right?
This thought continued to linger in his mind for a while until he started to fall into a comfortable pace with you
That was until one night where he fell asleep earlier than expected
He woke up in the middle of the night to see that you weren't beside him
He immediately assumed the worst and jumped out of bed, searching frantically for you
But when he stormed into the living room and saw you sitting in the middle of the floor, a huge array of odd objects surrounding you, he froze
Your head snapped up and you stared at him with wide eyes, a creepy looking animal mask in your hands
Brahms scanned the items around you and saw similar looking masks and even some variously sized bones from animals he could not name
When his eyes finally met yours again, he just saw you looking back, a bit amused
He simply tilted his head in confusion
"I'm surprised you didn't find out sooner," you said
"This whole time, I've secretly been a weirdo. And now that you've seen the true me, you can't leave!"
There was a moment of silence
When suddenly Brahms began to break out into a fit of giggles
If this is the biggest secret you've been keeping from him, he'll happily take it
He wasn't going to let you leave either way, but it was nice to know that you felt the same way about him
At least now he doesn't have much of a reason to keep stalking you from the walls
Except if his mask ever goes missing
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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
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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.
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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…”
6K notes · View notes
aalyssah · 9 months
Text
Everything Wrong, But One Thing Right
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Pairing: Brahms Heelshire x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff!
Word Count: 1,145
Summary: When you get sick Brahms tries to take care of you, but it doesn't go as planned.
A/N: Just a short oneshot of Brahms taking care of you when your sick. Hope You Enjoy!
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You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, and your throat hurt like hell.
You rolled over, hitting the alarm clock on the nightstand. When you slug your feet over the edge, you begin feeling lightheaded. Instantly, you laid back, not wanting to pass out.
You then tried again, sitting up too fast, you slipped on a slipper that was on the floor. Your body hit the floor with a loud thud and a grunt coming from your mouth. "Ow!"
The door practically busted down when Brahms walked through, going to your side. He looked down at you, head tilted to the side. "I'm okay, I'm okay." You used the bed to help you up. "God, is it hot in here? I'm hot." You began fanning yourself with your hands.
That's when it clicked for Brahms. You were sick. He scooped you up in his arms and brought you to the bathroom. "Brahms? Brahms, what are you doing?" Brahms ignored your question, setting you on the counter.
"Bath." You shook your head. "No Brahms, it's okay. I can bathe myself." You got off the counter and went downstairs to the kitchen. Brahms still turned the water on, and went to go fish you.
You just entered the kitchen when Brahms grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder. "Brahms Heelshire, put me down right now!" Brahms smiled under his mask, walking up the steps back to your bathroom. He made it to the bathtub and without any thought he placed you in.
Your eyes grew wide as you felt the scalding hot water touch your body. "Brahms, what the fuck!" You quickly scrambled to get out of the tub, but Brahms only held you down. "Wash." He grabbed a loofah and soap and tried washing you.
"Brahms stop, let me out!" Brahms eventually stepped to the side, allowing you to escape. You crawled out, breathing heavily. You felt even more hot than before, but goosebumps were still on your body. "Are you trying to kill me?" Confusion crossed through Brahms mind.
He was only trying to give you a bath. "First, that water is way too hot for anyone to wash in and second, you're supposed to be naked when washing, not fully clothed!" You let out a sigh, standing up. "Get out and let me wash, then I'll cook breakfast."
Brahms walked out the room, watching as you closed the door. He could hear you muttering things under your breath. Just then, his stomach growled loudly, indicating he was hungry. A lightbulb was hovering over his head as he thought of another way to help you.
He was gonna make breakfast! He went to the kitchen and picked out pancake mix and eggs. He did the easy part, mixing the pancake mix, but when he got to actually cooking it, it was hectic.
First, he didn't put any oil in the pan, causing the batter to stick to the pan, when he flipped the pancakes they were barely cooked, and you could still see some of the powder on the outside. He moved onto the eggs, skipping the butter.
The eggs stuck to the pan, yellow and brown being shown. The smoke was heavy around the house, filling it until it was foggy. When you got out the shower and opened the door you smelled something burning.
Your eyes grew wide as you wrapped a towel around you and ran downstairs only to see Brahms cooking. "Brahms, what are you doing?!" You were quickly at his side, turning off the stove and taking the pan off the stove. Brahms stood there dumbfounded, wondering why you were yelling.
"What's wrong with you? Why would you cook eggs without butter?" Then the 'pancakes' on the plate caught your eye. "And look at this. Are these pancakes?" Brahms nodded his head. "But they're not even cooked all the way. A pancake shouldn't be this white, nor should you see powder on the outside!"
You pulled the pancake apart, revealing the white runny mix falling out. You almost gagged at the thought of someone eating it. Brahms reached his hand out and picked a piece off before eating it. "Ew don't eat that!" You slapped his hand multiple times, earning a whine from him.
"Look, just go sit down in the living room and don't do anything, but watch TV." You gave him a stern look as you finished the sentence. You went back upstairs with a sigh. How are you gonna get through the rest of the day?
-
By the time lunch passed by Brahms luckily didn't do anything, but a headache was starting to form. Your hands massaged your temple slowly as you closed your eyes. "Brahms, can you do me a favor?" Brahms perked up fast, giving you all his attention.
"Can you go to the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet, and hand me 2 Ibuprofen pills?" Brahms shot up off the couch, going upstairs. "It's a white bottle and has red pills!" You didn't know if Brahms heard you, but he was up there.
Brahms looked through the cabinet at all the pills. Did you say red bottle and green pills? Brahms wasn't so sure, but he picked up the Nyquil and grabbed two pills. He came rushing down the stairs with a smile on his face, finally he could do something right.
He held his hand out with the two pills. The pills made confusion cross over your face. You don't remember Ibuprofen pills looking like this. "Brahms, are you sure these are the Ibuprofen pills?" Brahms nodded his head eagerly, pushing his hand to your mouth.
"Let me go check." You traveled out the steps back to the bathroom and as you looked through the medicine cabinet, you realized what pills they were. "Really Brahms, Nyquil? Are you trying to make me go to sleep for days?" You grumbled, putting the pills back in its spot. You grabbed the Ibuprofen and popped two pills in your mouth.
-
It was now turning dark outside and sleep was taking over your body. You could feel yourself drooping on the couch, and the sound of the TV getting muffled. Brahms took notice and scooped you up in his arms.
He carried you bridal style upstairs to your bedroom. Your eyes opened just in time to see Brahms placing you gently on the bed and tucking you under the covers.
He was debating if he should give you a kiss, but he did anyways, leaning down and kissing you on your cheek.
He slowly walked to the door, not wanting to leave. "Brahms, come lay down with me." You didn't have to tell him twice. Brahms went to your bed, wrapping his arms around you, cuddling you into his chest.
He might've done everything wrong, but he did one thing right.
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zapreportsblog · 7 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❞
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✭ 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
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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.
390 notes · View notes
Text
Kinktober day 30
Brahms Heelshire + Breeding
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Finally, almost done with kinktober. No proof reading on this one, because I could not be bothered lmao.
 Shoutout to Egg Anon for being so excited for this one, sorry for making you wait so long for it.
Kinktober list
Getting Brahms to shower was always a chore, the man living in the walls having grown comfortable in his own filth in every sense of the word. The first time you had tired to make him shower he had whined and cried obnoxiously. He only ended up agreeing because you wouldn’t even kiss him goodnight because you said he smelled so bad. It ended with you having to change the water in the bathtub at least three times before it was clean, not to mention the war that was scrubbing his hair.
It hadn’t become any less difficult as time passed on, though you did figure out it was easier if you gave him a reward afterwards. Be it a cuddle, extra kisses or cooking his favorite meals. After your relationship had developed even more you knew he wanted a different reward, from the way his hands strayed to your chest, or his eyes seemed locked between your legs when he thought you weren’t looking.
Once when it had been yet another struggle to get him to bathe, he head left his mask on the sink after undressing to your confusion. Brahms wasn’t the type to not wear the thing, and it was almost uncanny to see him without it because you had gotten so used to it.
Your question as to why he took it off was answered when you had gotten up from your crouched position by the tub, only for Brahms to lean forward and press his face into your crotch, mouthing hungrily at the gift underneath your layers. Grabbing him by the hair and forcing his head back made the man whimper, his tongue half stuck out of his mouth from his licking and wetting of your jeans.
Brahms had whimpered and whined, looking up at you with blown pupils and a quivering bottom lip, his puppy eyes used to their strongest. But you had quickly grown immune to his eyes and begs over your time with him, so you had just pushed him back with a tsk and told him he didn’t deserve that type of reward because he had acted up so much when you wanted to get him clean. Maybe if he behaved, you’d let him taste, or even give him something even better.
After that Brahms seemed almost excited to bathe, going from bathing once every few weeks to wanting you to wash him every night before bed. And of course, you had followed your promise and after scrubbing him clean, you would always get to your feet, open up your jeans and let Brahms choke himself on your length, hand in his damp but still clean hair as he got drool and spittle all over you.
One night during Brahms shower, he told you to leave for a while because he could do it himself. You were very confused, because though he could do it himself Brahms was not the type to turn down your pampering and scrubbing him all over. He pouted at your quirked brow, his hands underneath the warm soapy water as he huffed at your reluctance.
Knowing he would call for you soon you just shrugged and left the bathroom, shutting the door carefully behind you. Deciding to stay nearby you sat down in one of the many fancy chairs that littered the hallways of the large mansion, pulling your phone out of your pocket to start scrolling through social media, keeping an ear out for Brahms noises as you heard water splashing.
Time passed and Brahms didn’t call out to you, though you did hear his noises behind the door. Brahms wasn’t one to keep quiet, so when you heard his keen from the bathroom you got to your feet and made your way over. Deciding to keep listening you stopped outside the door and listened, an interested tingle spreading through your abdomen as you heard Brahms moans and whimpers.
When you heard him moan your name you grabbed the doorhandle and pushed open the door, biting your lip as you saw Brahms on all fours and sideways in the tub. He was supporting his weight on the side of the tub with one arm, the other reached behind him so he could press his fingers inside himself.
His eyes were clenched shut, the burn scar on the side of his face scrunched up at the grimace he made, a slightly louder voice leaving him as he brushed against his prostate. You couldn’t keep the curse that left your lips to yourself, and Brahms eyes quickly snapped open and met your own, the man letting out an almost pornographic moan as he pushed his fingers deeper into himself.
He whimpered and whined, begs falling from his lips as you slowly stepped closer. Your socks became soaked as you stepped in the water that was pooling on the floor, most likely spilled there from Brahms moving around too much in the water and it spilling over the sides. When you reached down and caressed his face Brahms was quick to catch your thumb between his lips, sucking at the finger and rolling his tongue over its underside as if trying to tempt you to touch him more.
“Please, please” Brahms whimpered around your thumb, his eyes watery as he looked up at you, the hand working himself open growing sloppy and uneven as his arm grew tired. “What is it you want, Brahms?” you muttered, the crotch of your pants feeling tight from how hard you had gotten at the sight in front of you. “please…I want…” he whimpers as his fingers brush his prostate, “I want you to fuck me please” he chokes out as a tear runs down his scarred cheek, spit dribbling down his chin and down your wrist as he tries to take your thumb even deeper into his mouth.
You let out a shaky exhale and pulled your thumb from his mouth, quickly reaching down to pull Brahms to his feet before he could start whining. By moving him he had to remove his fingers from himself and grab at your front, your clothes growing soaked as he stumbled into your arms. You groaned as he quickly wrapped himself around you, his harm cock pressed tightly into your clothed stomach and leaving a spot of precum on the shirt.
“Come on” you mutter as you lean down to kiss him, slipping your tongue between his lips and stepping back, pulling the man out of the bathtub, and leaving even more water on the floor. Wet kisses were swapped between your lips as you moved the two of you closer to the sink, Brahms hands shoving up your shirt and making you shiver as his cold fingers met your skin.
Dislodging your kiss, you grabbed Brahms hands and pushed him backwards and away from you, causing the man to whimper loudly. Flipping him around you pushed Brahms against the large bathroom counter, the kind you only really find in rich people houses, with too much counter space and an obnoxiously big sink. Though for this it was perfect you thought as you put a hand between Brahms shoulder blades and pushed him down against the marble, Brahms letting out a yelp as his still wet chest was pushed against the cold stone.
Brahms stuck out his hips as far as he could, almost arching his back as he grasped at the counter with fumbly fingers, trying to find anywhere to grasp on. Using your free hand, you reached down and shoved down the front of your pants, grabbing the top of your boxers to pull them down under your balls to let your cock bounce free.
The scarred man against the counter moaned audibly as he heard the movement of fabric, knowing what it meant, and it made him spread his stance just a little. “Lift your leg please” you mutter, reaching down to grab under one of his thighs to get his knee up onto the counter and truly spread him open.
He seemed to have done a pretty good job at stretching himself open in the bath, but you could never be too sure. Opening one of the many drawers you grabbed a travel sized bottle of lube, popped the cap and quickly covered your fingers. Patting him between the shoulder blades you told him to keep still and be good.
Brahms did his best but couldn’t help but wriggle his hips as you pressed the lubed up fingers inside him, the man shivering at the cold but his cock throbbing where it was twitching between his legs, a bead of precum gathering at the tip and dripping onto the floor. When you were satisfied with how stretched and lubed up he was, you used the last of the lube to slick up your length.
Grabbing onto his hips you stepped in close behind him, using a hand to lead your length until you pressed the head against his wet quivering hole. “You ready?” you husk, Brahms choking on a moan as he begged you to get inside him already. Chuckling you press inside, groaning as his warmth wraps around you, his walls clenching and unclenching as the man whines and moans, his hips wriggling trying to make you move immediately.
Pressed inside fully, you let the both of you adjust as your hips are pressed against his ass. You run a hand over the thigh that’s up against the counter as if to calm him like one would a wild animal, the muscles in Brahms back flexing as if trying his hardest to control himself. “Please… please fuck me… breed me” Brahms whines, voice wobbly as if he was about to cry.
Suppressing a groan, you grab onto his hips tighter and give him what he wants, moving your hips slowly back and forth, quickly growing faster in your movements until Brahms is gripping onto the edges of the marble counter, loud moans and cries leaving him as your length abuses his insides.
Brahms begging grows louder and higher in pitch as you strike his prostate, drool running down his chin and leaving a puddle on the counter as you keep hammering your hips against his, the loud noise of skin on skin and the wet noise of lube filling the bathroom, as you both moan and pant. Losing his grip of the counter Brahms reaches behind him and grabs onto your hips as if you pull you even deeper, his naturally deep voice croaking as he begs you to fill him.
He is the first to finish, the muscles of his back tensing and stretching as he throws his head back to the best of his ability, his cock throbbing as it shoots streaks of white against the doors of the counter, painting the dark wood.
Your thrusts grow faster as you approach your peak, the grip on his hip becoming even rougher as you feel the familiar warmth gather in your abdomen. As you reach your orgasm you shove in as deep as you can, your hips flush against his cheeks as you spill inside him. Brahms lets out a pathetic sounding moan as he feels your warmth fill him, his body slumping against the counter as his muscles all seem to finally give out.
The two of you stay pressed together, trying to catch your breaths until you’ve both come back down from your orgasms. You slowly pull your length out of Brahms, moaning softly as you watch his hole clench and cum dribble from his hole. Helping him get his leg down from the counter, you make sure to praise him and press kisses against his skin as you pull him to his feet and against your chest.
When you mention Brahms probably needs another bath he whines, turning his head to bury it in your shoulder. You chuckle at his behavior and tell him it can wait, that you both should go get changed and cuddle up, which your lover agrees too with a sleepy hum.
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disasterofastory · 6 months
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Compromise (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)
Compromise // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 5/14 Warnings: cum in panties
Summary: Brahms lets you out of the house, but he makes sure you think of him the whole time.
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The house is suspiciously quiet, but you try not to think about it too much. Brahms is upset with you since you told him about your plans to go to town. You barely saw him yesterday, so your only companion was the toy you had to take care of while that man-child spied on you through the cracks in the wall. The only thing you heard was your own voice all day. You were surprised how easily you got used to his presence, and when he decided to avoid you and punish you with his silence, you missed him.
Your coat is already on you, and your bag is light on your shoulder with a few of your belongings. The keys jiggle in your hand as you put it into the door lock. The quiet click seems loud in the tense silence.
"I will be quick, Brahms," you sigh. You try to push your guilt away as much as you can. You agreed to stay with Brahms; let's not think about the fact that he didn't really give you any other choice, but he has to learn to compromise on some things. You have to go out to shop and be around people every now and then, and you still have a family. If you don't want people to get too curious about the Heelshire manor and you, they need to see you from time to time.
Your hand is already on the doorknob when you feel long fingers curling around your arm and tugging you back. The hold on your limb is firm and a bit too tight for your liking. "Brahms!" You gasp, shocked and annoyed. Your back thuds against the door when the man turns you around and traps you between his body and the thick wooden surface. He towers over you easily, staring down at you from behind his porcelain mask. His eyes are dark and upset. You can't see his face, but you are sure he is pouting. "Brahms! We talked about this!" He is so close to you that you can feel his warm exhale fanning over your hairline. "We talked about this, sweet boy," you try again, more gentle this time. Your hand smooths over his arm. "It's just for a few hours, and I will come back to you. I won't leave you, Brahms." His posture relaxes slightly, but he still doesn't let you move. Instead, he reaches down to your pants, tugging and pushing until your legs are spread, and your jeans are around your knees. His broad chest heaves at the sight of your mound under your black panties.
You can't do anything but watch as he tugs on the waistband of your panties while his other hand reaches for his hard-on in his pants. When he moves even closer, you forget how to breathe until your head throbs and your lungs burn for air. "Brahms-" He grunts in answer, still not willing to speak to you.
Excitement strikes through your spine when he taps the fat head of his cock to your slit. Brahms rocks his hips, making you wet with his pre-cum. No matter how much he wants to look at your face to see your reaction, he can't tear his eyes away from the sight of his own cock in his hand, pushing and pulling out the junction of your thighs. His fingers stroke up and down on his shaft while sliding over your folds and rubbing your clit. His arousal glints on your soft skin, mixing with your own juices.
The man reminds you of a star-struck puppy as he jerks off, staring at your pussy. A tight coil burns in your stomach as you watch the scene between your legs. He slaps his cock against your pussy again, grunting and moving his hand faster. The rumble of his chest goes straight to your aching center. Your muscles jerk and twitch with the need to do something to release some pressure in your body, but you know Brahms better by now. He teases and taunts you with the promise of giving you whatever you want from him when you come home. But you have to come home to him.
With his free hand, he tugs on your panties again, making sure the crotch of the soft fabric is where he wants it to be. His breath changes quickly, and his fingers tighten around his throbbing cock. He is soaked by your juices, and it makes his chest stretch with pride. You want him. You want his cock and his fingers and his tongue. And you will come back to get them all.
Brahms's whine is muffled by his mask as he shoots his seed with a hard jerk of his hips. Spurt after spurt soaks your skin and panties while his hand still stokes up and down on his erection. The pearly white drops are warm on your mound and slit, flowing down to the already wet fabric between your thighs.
For long seconds, both of you stand still, watching the mess he made. His breathing is heavy, and you have to force yourself not to jump on him. Your walls clench around nothing with need, and your clit throbs for some friction. "Brahms-" He grunts again, not even looking up at your face as he tucks his cock away and pulls your panties back to your pussy. His hands smooth over your crotch, making sure his seed is smeared all over your heat and the fabric sticks to your slit. It's warm and sticky, and you can't help but moan at the feeling.
The man smirks behind his mask, satisfied with his work.
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nackrosor · 4 months
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~Your Wish~
(pt.1/3)
PART 2 - PART 3
Brahms Heelshire x nanny!Reader
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warnings/tags: smut, voyeurism, masturbation (nothing explicit), not much happening tbh, it's more of a teasing for what might come next... (i'm thinking somnophilia, dub/con, eventual consensual sex but we'll see...) words count: 1,1k. a.n: this is just a lil' something to keep the writing block away and to get used to writing less but posting more. Also, for once I focused on the character's - in this case Brahms's - feelings/thoughts instead of the reader's, so there's that. Enjoy!
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The boy watched you as you placed Brahms in its bed with the care of a mother. You've been looking after the doll for weeks now, treating it with such gentleness; he noticed it and it made him happy, proud of you. He liked you even more because of it. 
He's been watching you the entire time, peeking through the slits and gaps between the walls. Every time your hands held the doll's small form tight to your chest or each time your lips brushed its ceramic face for a goodnight kiss, he wished it was him instead of his fake counterpart. He wished to be touched like that, to be cared for like that… By you.
Despite his ardent and ever-growing fondness for you, he stayed back, hidden behind the walls, only coming out when you were outside in the garden or asleep in your bed. He was afraid you'd be scared to see him, scared of him. That you would run away, leave him alone… He would not be able to bear it. No. You were his. His y/n. 
He'd stay hidden for you, content to watch you and admire you from a distance… fantasising about your touch, your warmth, your lips... 
You leaned down and gave the doll the mandatory goodnight kiss, drawing Brahms's attention back to you. A soft groan left his lips at the sight. Everything you did aroused him. It was an instant reaction. Even at that moment, he could already feel himself growing… 
"You know, Brahms?” 
His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. He eagerly leaned in against the wooden panel in the hope of hearing you better. 
“Sometimes I wish you were a real boy so that we would keep each other company in this big, scary house." 
You admitted with a little smile on your lips as you caressed the cold doll's face, and he almost lost it. He would have punched through the wall and wrapped his arms tight around you, right there and there, if only he could. Would you have accepted him? Without reservations? He had just heard you say you wished he was real… Would you have been happy to see him? To see that he was, in fact, very much real and just as desirous to keep you company.
The melodious sound of your chuckle drew his attention back to you, and he saw you shaking your head in amusement before you tucked the doll in and retreated towards the door to leave the room. 
Brahms ran after you without even a second thought, rushing through the maze behind the walls to follow your path.
You made it to your bedroom and started undressing yourself to get ready for bed. His breath caught in his throat; the sight of your bare body always made him twitch in need. Oh, how he would love to strip you out of your clothes at least once... His probing eyes raked over your curves, his breathing becoming ragged, while you slipped into your nightgown and crawled into your bed with a tired sigh. 
The light went out, and he hissed. It was difficult to watch you with the entire room enveloped in pitch-blackness, but at least he could make out your faint silhouette since that night the moon shone high in the sky, its kind rays gently illuminating your soft curves through the dark drapes.
He kept watching you for a while, making sure you fell asleep, making sure you were alright. 
As he was turning around to crawl back to his place and take care of himself, he heard a soft, muffled sound coming from your room. He immediately moved back to the hole to peek inside. 
You were stirring under the sheets. Were you having a bad dream? Or perhaps you couldn't fall asleep? 
He leaned in further, squinting through the gap in an attempt to see you better. More weak noises came out of you, causing him to frown in confusion. It didn't sound like you were in pain… But your breath came out in short gasps, as if you were having trouble with something.
Brahms felt his muscles tense up, his whole body urging him to follow his instincts and barge into the room to help you. 
“Ohh, f-fuck…f-fuck…”
The sound of your voice made him freeze on the spot, his eyes growing wide. He watched as your legs spread apart under the sheets and your body arched up slightly. He could see it clearly now; your arm hidden beneath the sheets, resting right between your thighs. 
It took all of his strength to hold back the deep grunt that was about to spill out of his mouth when he finally realised what was happening. His legs gave out, causing him to fall to the floor, but his hands muffled the thud by holding onto the wall, slowing down his fall.
He leaned his forehead against the wooden panels, his breathing shallow and his body trembling in restraint. His hand tentatively reached for his pants, while the other rested on the wall in front of him for support. He had to bite down on his lips to muffle a moan the moment he palmed himself from above the fabric. His bulge twitched, desperately screaming for attention but he knew he couldn't answer… He would make too much noise… and alert you… Scare you… No… He couldn't risk it… He had to wait… Wait until you finished and fell asleep… Only then… Only then he could… 
Reluctantly, he tore his hand away from his pants and rested it on the wall as well, going back to focus on the sight of you. Your voice was growing louder, and each single moan and whimper that escaped you went straight to his throbbing erection, making him grit his teeth. His hips started bucking up, thrusting into the air on their own accord, moving in unison with your own as if he was the one pleasuring you… hitting your most precious spot inside you instead of your fingers. 
He had to summon every ounce of willpower inside him to control himself and hold back when he heard you cry out in pleasure, your body spasming violently, shaken by waves of ecstasy. 
The muffled sound of his ragged breathing drowned out your sounds as it reverberated through his mask, his hot breath condensing into tiny drops on the cold ceramic. 
Brahms kept staring at you, raptured and shuddering with barely contained lust as you came down from your high and tucked yourself in again, ready to fall asleep this time. 
He nearly came only from watching you, or rather, hearing you. If he could have truly seen you, nothing could have prevented him from bursting inside his pants without even touching himself. It would have been so much better than what he was going through at that very moment —shivering, gasping for air, trying to remain silent, and not answering the urge to relieve himself. 
He had to make sure you were asleep first. 
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[A.N: let me know if you would like to read part 2 of this...]
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[Also consider leaving a tip here on Tumblr or BUYING ME A ☕, if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]
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alomone · 2 months
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: ̗̀➛ You gifted Brahms a sweater for the winter
Brahms Heelshire x GN!Reader
Masterlist
Requests and asks are open!!
gif is not mine , credit to the person who made it
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You had been thinking about buying some clothes for Brahms for a long time now, winter was settling itself, temperature going down and you knew that Brahms didn't have that much clothes, beside the one he already had or the one you bought for him disguising them as yours knowing how much he liked stealing your clothes.
Leaving the house has been more acceptable this past few weeks, you had talk with Brahms, he understood that sometimes you needed to leave the house for a few hours but that never meant that you were going to leave him alone for too long.
"It's only for three hours, Brahms, I will be back as soon as I finish shopping! I promise I will go as fast as I can and will get home immediately, you can wait for me, right?", you had reassured him as you put on your coat and took the car keys, looking up at the tall frame watching you for the corridor.
You waved him goodbye, reminding him that it won't take long. It took a good two hours to make your way into town and find the right sweater that would suit him best, opting for a simple sweater with a nice fabric, you had made your way back, hoping that Brahms would like it.
When you got back from your little shopping trip, Brahms was waiting for you at the door, as you enter with a bag of the few new clothes you just bought, you smiled at him. "Brahms, I have something for you!" he was approaching, ready to follow you around like he always does. Brahms looked almost surprised, which was hard to tell with his mask on.
"Do you like it?" You asked with the calmest tone possible in the moment as your heart fluttered at the sight of hands shakingly holding the sweater up to his face. Brahms nodded quickly and started walking back to his room when you stopped him.
“Brahms, it needs to be washed first, I will give it back to you!” You had heard a sigh before he went back to you, letting you take the new sweater from him.
If a simple sweater could make this man happy then you would buy him even more because that made you happy too.
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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
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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
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[Main Masterlist]
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the-s1lly-corner · 19 days
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Brahms x Artist!Reader
Short post to try to introduce more characters to the.. slasher list.. shrugs
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Honestly, just assume hes already looked into your sketchbook when your back was turned, Brahms likely doesn't have much of a sense of privacy nor feel the need for it when you and him are an item
Bonus if you have a bunch of drawings and doodles of him in your sketchbook; from pencil sketches to markers to paints hes going to be eating it up.. it might put him in a bit of a mood, though, greatly stroking his ego and feeling of importance to you
He might just demand that you draw him at that moment! So heres to hoping you dont have many chores to do that day
Any drawing you give him is going to be stashed away in his crawl space, lovingly pinned to the walls on display to no one else but him
He tries to draw for you, though he might get frustrated if he believes his art is no where near as good as yours
Loves watching you draw, whether it be by your side or through the walls. As long as hes not getting bored and wanting your undivided attention he can get lost in watching you work
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