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fallingprophetically · 1 year

Text

Brahms X Gn!Nanny!Reader Ficlet

MINORS DNI

Warnings:Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Brahms Gets His Own Warning, Nanny As A Catchall Term

Pairing:Brahms x Reader

Tags:Stalking, Perving, Obsessions, Possessiveness, Controlling, Jealousy, Being Watched, Following Rules, Creepy Doll

Word Count:1,822

Summary:You are Brahms' new nanny and are unaware of the man obsessing over you from inside the walls.

A/N:Fairly certain that this fic is mostly inclusive. I tried to keep the description of the reader as vague as possible, hopefully it worked.

Also, if there is any mistakes please let me know. This is pretty much the first fic or fic adjacent thing I have written and I wrote this when I definitely should have been sleeping. I also put this through Google Docs for spell checking, but that does not really help with wording and such.

~Thanks and enjoy~

You were everything that Brahms could have wanted. You were everything he needed.

You took care of the doll and followed all of the rules to the best of your abilities. There were days where you couldn't be bothered to check the rat traps, but who could blame you, it was a dreary task after all.

That aside, you did everything daily. You'd wake up at roughly the same time every day, then you'd get ready for the day in almost 20 minutes (which included a quick shower, some face care and teeth brushing and getting dressed). After getting yourself presentable for the day, you would go to Brahms' room and ever so gently wake him.

You’d always say something along the lines of "it's time to wake up, Brahmsy" or "time for breakfast little one".

And once you had said that you'd gently pull the covers from the doll and sit it up, then you would place the softest kiss on its forehead before going to the dresser and choosing an outfit for the day. You would make the bed (moving the doll to sit on a nearby chair and placing it back on the bed once it's made) wash the doll's face with a soft cloth and lukewarm water, then you'd dress the doll, brush its hair and take it downstairs for breakfast.

Breakfast was Brahms' favourite.

You always made it so fun. You'd choose something healthy and put a sweet spin on it, even if it was something a bit boring like peaches and cream or pancakes and whipping. You'd add a little bit of granola to it or oats, sometimes fresh berries and a very little bit of sugar or cinnamon. You always spoiled Brahms when it came to breakfast, always gave him some kind of sweetness.

He'd begun to imagine that the saccharine things you fed him were little pieces of yourself you were giving to him, little pieces of sugar and candied love with a little bit of a roughness to it. He loved your breakfasts.

When you were done with your breakfast you'd leave the doll's plate in front of it and clean whatever dishes were in the sink, then you'd clean up the breakfast and put it in the fridge and do whatever dishes were left. Then you'd grab the doll and move to the library to start his lessons.

Sometimes you'd start with a poem, sometimes you'd sing him a song.

He preferred the latter.

Your voice sounded as though it were liquid sunlight dripping onto his skin, warm and soft with a small amount of sticky to it, almost like freshly scraped honey. He could listen to you for hours, but you'd stick to the schedule his mother gave you and eventually stop, much to his chagrin.

His least favourite lesson was history. It was repetitive and it annoyed him, but your sap-like voice trapped him into listening. Kept him struggling and yearning for more. Eventually, however, the lessons had to lead into lunch and you’d take the doll back to the kitchen.

The thing that had Brahms smitten by you the most was the fact that you were always talking to the doll, telling it even the tiniest details of stuff, no matter how miniscule most would deem the information. To you it was always important enough to share with Brahms, to talk with him even though you never got a response back.

Brahms was always listening, and watching, from the walls. Everything you did and said imprinted into his brain, tattooed upon his veins and heart. Your words like a life preserver in the black ocean of emptiness that was his soul.

So by lunch, he was dizzy with every essence that was you. Dizzy with need and want, hungering for the feel of your soft delicate skin. Craving to caress every little part of your body, to smooth every pore and imperfection until it was full of him. Until there was no end to him and no start to you.

So by lunch, on most days, he would please himself behind the comfort of his mask and his walls as he watched you fuss over the doll and its lunch. He was always over eager, however, and couldn't last for long. So, instead, he'd continue watching you and listening, sometimes going for another round, most times just appreciating the artistry that was your figure until lunch was over.

After lunch, which usually consisted of sandwiches, you would continue with Brahms' studies. However, once a week on the same day, Malcolm would drop off groceries.

Brahms despised the grocer.

Malcolm always flirted with his nannies, and it pissed Brahms off. Especially since the man always had a way of making the nannies forget their duties and neglect him.

You, however, were different. Unlike with the other nannies, Brahms never had to remind you of your duties, you kept your contact with Malcolm very low and never invited him to stay in the house longer than necessary.

Only on very rare occasions did you entertain Malcolm's flirting, but you never broke any rules when you did. You'd sit on the porch, a tea in your hand and the doll at your side, and you'd just listen to Malcolm. Brahms knew it was because you craved human interaction, but it still made him envious.

The first time you'd gone outside to talk with Malcolm, Brahms threw a tantrum. It was also the first time you were made aware of his presence. You had your suspicions, of course, especially since so many of your things disappeared a bit too frequently.

But actually having your suspicions become true was quite terrifying to you, it even took you a while to recover from that terror. For nearly a full week you stopped talking to the doll, it took you quite some time to actually speak to him once more.

When you did start speaking outside of the lessons once more, you explained to him that you merely craved human interaction. You did understand that he was frightened of being abandoned, so you promised you wouldn’t talk for too long.

So, Brahms agreed.

Other than that, there were few instances of Brahms needing to remind you of your duties to him. The one other time that he threw a huge tantrum was because you'd fed him what you called Mexican food. According to you it's a quite popular quick style of food for when someone doesn't feel like cooking a huge meal. Brahms felt that you needed a bit of a break, as a thank you, but never again. His poor tongue didn't stop burning until the next day.

You learned your lesson, and didn't cook Mexican again, or at least you didn't tell Brahms when you did you just made sure his portions weren't spicy.

Out of all the new little additions you made to his schedule, his favourites were the books you ordered from online. The first one you read to him was a book called Frankenstein.

Brahms, at first, thought it was ridiculous, but by the ending he was heart broken. For he understood the wanting desire of companionship, for him it too was something he wouldn't be able to live without. Or, that was his interpretation of the story, and yours was quite different. According to you it was a common thing for people to have differing interpretations of the story, he found that very interesting.

The other additions happened slowly. Like you singing to him on occasion, or your little walks out in the cold autumn afternoons. Of course you would take the doll with you, but Brahms wouldn't dare leave the house. Instead he'd watch you from a window, still making sure you weren't trying to relinquish your duties and leave him.

After lunch, on normal days anyways, you'd continue with Brahms' studies, which you would finish early. Or atleast earlier than his mother did when she'd help with his studies. This was when you'd read to him, or sometimes sing to him, or go for your walks.

Then came some chores such as cleaning and dusting. You'd keep the doll in the same room as you, and you'd talk its little ears off. After your chores came supper. On colder days you'd make a soup or stew, on nice days some type of pasta or roast. On warmer days, which were infrequent even in the summer, you'd make something quick, just not Mexican.

Once more, you'd do dishes and put away the doll's untouched food. Pretending to not notice that the food from previous mealtimes was gone. Then you'd sit in the lounge and continue reading to the doll before getting it ready for bed. You'd dress it in clean nightclothes, tuck it in and give it a goodnight kiss. Then you would go to your room and prepare yourself for bed.

Sometimes, if Brahms was lucky, you'd shower before bed.

Your shower before bed was your special time. You didn't clean yourself, but you'd stay in there for a while. Soft noises emitting from your mouth as Brahms watched you please yourself, Brahms would please himself at the same time usually. Sometimes he wouldn't, instead opting to save the images for later so he could be a bit louder, and not in such a confined space.

Then you would get out, dress for bed and lay down. Brahms would wait until your breathing became slow and even before leaving the walls. Then he would watch you sleep, all of his worries and anxieties would drift away as he stared at your peaceful face. At times he would gently stroke your hair, or caress your cheek. When you first began as his nanny he was afraid of waking you, but as time went on he became bolder.

Maybe a bit too bold as he never thought he'd look into your eyes as deeply as a lover might. Nor have you actually take in his giant form leaned over you. He never thought he'd ever have to face any of his anxieties or fears of you leaving him, but now you two were face to face. His wild eyes staring down into your own fear filled ones. His face was so close to yours he could smell the shampoo you showered with only moments ago. Slowly, as though you were on the verge of bolting, he brought his hand up to your face.

Unsure about him nor his intentions you slightly flinch which causes him to pause momentarily, which lasts a mere second as his hand is lightly placed upon your cheek and his thumb begins to softly caressing your lips. He leans in closer to you, enough that you could hear his heavy breaths right next to your ear. In a child's voice, one you've heard only a few times before, he whispers into your ear.

"My pretty songbird"

Quick little author's note: I SWEAR TO GOD IF I HAVE TO WRITE ABOUT MARY SHELLEY'S FRANKENSTEIN AND MALCOLM STEALING BRAHMS' NANNIES ONE MORE DAMN TIME I AM GOING TO COMMIT GRAND LARCENY. TWICE. TWICE. I PRESSED THE BACK BUTTON AND DID NOT SAVE. TWO DAMN TIMES. NEXT TIME I WRITE I AM DOING IT IN GOOGLE DOCS. ONE HOUR WORTH OF WRITING, GONE. FML. (Just a lil fyi, it is because of my own stupidity that I am struggling with Tumblr)

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milkyteaart · 2 years

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EVEN THOUGH I’M HAVING THE WORST WEEK OF MY LIFE I STILL MANAGED TO FINISH THIS! HOLY SHIT please blow this up y’all i need some serotonin /)TTwTT/)

#brahms heelshire #brahms #brahms fanart #the boy 2016 #the boy #milkyteaart #stinky wall man

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whatyadrawin · 2 years

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Throwing in my hat for the position of Brahms caretaker lol.

Greta step aside girl your replacement is here.

#brahms heelshire #the boy #stinky wall man #house husband #slasher simp #slasher thirst #horror community #slasher community #fanart #muscle #horror art #slashers

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dstrong-18 · 1 year

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just some messy brahms sketches

#brahms fanart #brahms heelshire #stinky wall man #fanart #slashers

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callmemilkyteaart · 2 years

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#brahms heelshire #brahms #stinky wall man #callmemilky #brahms heelshire aesthetic

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ahmnom · 1 year

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Love your art <3 but can I request another drawing of stinky wall hiding boy with his kidd. If not then it's okay, have a nice day ❤️

The boy and his son 😭 I fucking love how this came out it’s so cute I’m sorry guys I can’t- BRAHMS WITH A KIDDDD AAAAAAA

EDIT: ALSO THANK YOU

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snapes-wife · 5 months

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Brahms Heelshire x reader

[ short story] [ english version / german version ]

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Hey Guys! This is my first post and yeah 😀

------ The english version --------------------------

In the ethereal moonlight filtering through the dusty windows of the Heelshire mansion, Brahms stepped out from the shadows, the porcelain mask that concealed his features creating an air of mystery. The atmosphere seemed charged with a strange yet undeniable connection as your eyes met for the first time.Unexpectedly, Brahms reached out, his gloved hand delicately cupping your face, and he pressed a gentle kiss through the cool porcelain of his mask. The touch carried a silent language, a mixture of longing and the haunting beauty that surrounded his existence.In the hushed silence of that moment, you found the courage to express a desire to see the face behind the porcelain mask. Brahms, torn between secrecy and a growing connection, hesitated. After a pause that felt like an eternity, he agreed but with a condition — darkness would be the canvas upon which he would reveal himself.The lights dimmed, enveloping the room in an inky blackness. In that darkness, Brahms took off his mask, his identity remaining a mystery even as he kissed you once more. The absence of visual details intensified the other senses, turning the encounter into a sensory journey where touch and taste painted a picture richer than any mere sight could offer.As the kiss lingered in the dark, Brahms' decision to keep his face hidden added an enigmatic layer to your connection. In that intimate moment, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the soft whispers of the mansion, you and Brahms shared a unique bond that defied the boundaries of the known, existing in a realm where love and mystery coalesced.

------ The german version -------------------------

Im ätherischen Mondlicht, das durch die staubigen Fenster des Heelshire-Herrenhauses drang, trat Brahms aus den Schatten, und die Porzellanmaske, die seine Gesichtszüge verbarg, erzeugte einen Hauch von Geheimnis. Die Atmosphäre schien von einer seltsamen, aber unbestreitbaren Verbindung erfüllt zu sein, als sich Ihre Blicke zum ersten Mal trafen. Unerwartet streckte Brahms die Hand aus, legte seine behandschuhte Hand sanft auf Ihr Gesicht und drückte einen sanften Kuss durch das kühle Porzellan seiner Maske. Die Berührung vermittelte eine stille Sprache, eine Mischung aus Sehnsucht und der eindringlichen Schönheit, die seine Existenz umgab. In der stillen Stille dieses Augenblicks fanden Sie den Mut, den Wunsch auszudrücken, das Gesicht hinter der Porzellanmaske zu sehen. Brahms, hin- und hergerissen zwischen Geheimhaltung und einer wachsenden Verbindung, zögerte. Nach einer Pause, die ihm wie eine Ewigkeit vorkam, stimmte er zu, allerdings unter der Bedingung, dass die Dunkelheit die Leinwand sein würde, auf der er sich offenbaren würde. Die Lichter wurden gedämpft und hüllten den Raum in tintenschwarze Dunkelheit. In dieser Dunkelheit nahm Brahms seine Maske ab, seine Identität blieb ein Rätsel, selbst als er dich noch einmal küsste. Das Fehlen visueller Details intensivierte die anderen Sinne und verwandelte die Begegnung in eine Sinnesreise, bei der Berührung und Geschmack ein Bild zeichneten, das reicher war, als es jeder bloße Anblick bieten könnte. Während der Kuss im Dunkeln verweilte, fügte Brahms‘ Entscheidung, sein Gesicht zu verbergen, Ihrer Verbindung eine rätselhafte Ebene hinzu. In diesem intimen Moment, umgeben von den Echos der Vergangenheit und dem leisen Flüstern des Herrenhauses, verbanden Sie und Brahms eine einzigartige Verbindung, die über die Grenzen des Bekannten hinausging und in einem Bereich existierte, in dem Liebe und Mysterium verschmolzen.

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#chatgpt #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #behind the mask #british wall rat man #Stinky sweaty man #english #german #brahms the boy

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necromaniackat · 10 months

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Cruel Summer

Chapter 7: Royal Water

Word count: 3.4K

CONTENT WARNING: some smut near the end, it’s a bit incectious but whatevs

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Your mum was right to be worried about you coming to Heelshire; there are many secrets within these walls. Your mum knew best what kind of people the Heelshires were, what kind of skeletons lurk in their closets. You knew your dad had his fair share of skeletons in his closet. Hell, you had a couple in yours. Heelshires are keepers of generational secrets. Soon it was going to be your turn to keep a generational secret. You just didn’t know it yet. But Brahms did. Deep inside his soul he knew you were the one. The one to keep his secret.

Of course Brahms had every idea to make you disappear like the others when you first stepped foot in the mansion. But something told him not to, to investigate this young woman who reminded him of his older brother. And he heard you say that this was your grandparents’ home. As far as he knew there was only one person who’d be calling his mum and dad their grandparents. But he had to be sure.

This morning Brahms quietly climbed through a trap door in the wall of the study while you were perched on the counter in the kitchen, talking to your mum and having a morning coffee. He fingered the spines of the photo albums and scrapbooks, looking for a particular one. Brahms stopped at the twine bound construction paper scrapbook you and your grandmother made when you were four. Unbeknownst to you, your grandmother kept updating it every year. Brahms never thought to look through it, like it was a secret between you and your grandmother.

Your mum didn’t particularly like your dad’s side of the family but she wasn’t about to cut them out of your life entirely; so she’d send a yearly letter full of pictures of you throughout that year.

Brahms flipped to the last page which was the most recent collage and tidbits of information about you. Sure enough, the person in the other room is in fact his niece, Evelyn. His Evie. The shy but bright little girl he hasn’t seen in eight years was now a beautiful, matured young woman. Brahms couldn’t believe it. His baby Evelyn was almost all grown up.

Brahms remembers the first time Haydn brought you to visit your grandparents; you rendered him speechless. Of course he couldn’t come out and see you like everyone else, he had to wait until you were asleep in a bedroom by yourself in order to get a good look at you. It was from that day forward Brahms would look out for you while at the mansion. He’d leave you little treats he’d stolen from the kitchen or retrieve lost toys. Whenever you were within the walls of the mansion, Brahms was your protector.

But right now Brahms was stewing in this unfamiliar hot emotion sitting in the middle of his abdomen. What was this feeling? It wasn’t how he usually felt about his new caretaker. Usually he feels possessiveness burning red hot in his fingertips or disgust throb in his sinuses, this wasn’t that.

Brahms was too busy looking at the scrapbook, he mistakenly bumped into his father’s desk causing there to be a loud sound. Brahms immediately set the book down on the desk and hustled over to the trap door before you could walk into the room. He watched closely, heart pounding in his chest, as you wandered into the room hesitantly. His body felt hot with adrenaline.

You peered around before your eyes locked on the book sitting open on the desk. Brahms cursed to himself, he shouldn’t’ve left it there. At the very least he should’ve taken it with him. He wouldn’t mind looking at your pictures some more.

You had shuffled over to the bookshelf while Brahms watched from his safe place. He noticed his body felt like it’d caught fire; especially when he saw you reach to put the book back, your tee shirt riding up to reveal your knickers. Brahms breathed heavily against the wood. His hands antsy, desperate to touch something.

“Evie!” The word burst out of his mouth loudly then watched as you jumped and looked around. Brahms covered his mouth with both hands as he stared wide eyed through the peephole. He witnessed you watch your cat trot over towards where Brahms was behind the wall then lean back as you glanced into the adjoining room.

For a brief moment Brahms believed you saw him somehow; your soft blue eyes laser focused on the place in the wall Brahms was hiding. He swore you were looking directly into his soul, but reality told him that he was safe in the shadows of the mansion, you couldn’t see him.

After that outburst you called someone, Brahms didn’t know who you called but he was interested to know what was said because as soon as you hung up you made a mad dash upstairs to the bedroom. Brahms followed, climbing up to the second level hastily. But he wasn’t fast enough because by the time he circled around the study and climbed the stairs, you’d gone upstairs, gotten dressed and was now coming back down the stairs. Brahms heard you quickly skedaddle past him. He let out a throaty groan, turning back around and heading down the stairs.

He heard the front door open and close. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and sighed heavily. Brahms felt like he was chasing a small rodent trying to keep up with you.

Brahms stayed at the bottom of the staircase, hidden within the walls. He sat down in the narrow secret corridor, waiting for you to come back inside. Brahms felt horrible for scaring you like that. He never meant to frighten you. It’s just he doesn’t want his doll to be forgotten about and he hasn’t eaten in a few days (his frozen meals ran out) so that’s why he was in the kitchen eating like a little piggy.

Brahms’ ears perked up when he heard the front door open and close. His heart skipped a beat and pure happiness jolted through him. He clambered to his feet ungracefully and peeked out the peephole he made by the front door. To his dismay it wasn’t you, his Evie, it was someone else. The same boy from yesterday. A pulse of jealousy came over Brahms. You called another man for help. That didn’t sit right with Brahms. He wanted to be your savior.

Worst of all, he showed up looking how he did, wearing what he was and you seemed to eat it up like you hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Most of the morning Brahms glared at Felix through a hole the size of a pound. You and this other male, Felix, had absolutely nothing in common. This raised Brahms’ hopes that he’s not going to have to fight for your attention.

Brahms’ body felt like it was on fire, watching your slim figure stretch and bend, and move in ways that short circuited his brain. Especially with what you were wearing. None of his nannies dared to wear anything like what you were wearing. You wore a black tee shirt crop top and a pair of high waisted black short shorts.

Brahms had never seen that much skin someone willing showed; usually he only sees that much skin is when he watches them in the shower or when they get changed. But you, you were bold enough to wear that in his mother’s house.

When you’d reach above you head your shirt would ride up your torso, revealing the porcelain skin of your stomach and lower back. Brahms was enthralled by you. He wanted to touch every inch of your pale flesh and revel in how you reacted.

Last night was a very hot night for Brahms. The entire United Kingdom is undergoing a heatwave so the house was already hot. But with your lack of clothing and any kind of cover, it only made Brahms hotter under the collar. He would be the first to admit he watched you sleep longer than he should’ve. He was mesmerized by every curvature of your body as it laid in the faint glow of the night, your skin appeared like snow in the low light. He had to fight off the urge to pounce on you right then and there. He risked being caught to get a closer look at you, kneeling beside the bed to watch you sleep so soundly while watching a true crime documentary on your phone.

Brahms wanted desperately to show himself to you, like he did when you were a little kid. But he knew it was too risky, too… –soon to show himself. You weren’t ready to bare the burden of their secret.

The sweaty male smiled to himself as his mind played instances of where you and he played together or he’d watch over you while you slept like a guard dog. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen you again. It’d been six year since he last saw you.

Brahms’ smile grew as the last time he saw you flashed through his mind like a collage of pictures and videos. The last time he saw you, you were this itty bitty eleven year old with thick almost black braids because your mum didn’t have time to deal with your hair so you just put it in pigtail braids. You were in your school uniform, it was you first year of secondary school and your dad promised your grandmother he’d bring you to visit so she can get pictures of you.

Brahms remembered you awkwardly posing on the stairs and in the garden for your grandmother and dad. Your mum also wanted pictures. He remembered your black mid calf length pencil skirt and your boxy white dress shirt underneath the dark grey blazer with the school crest over your heart. A red and grey striped tie was awkwardly done around your neck.

He desperately wanted to be close to you; he couldn’t handle it. He felt like he was going to explode. It’d been so long since he last saw you; you’ve grown up so much. You were no longer that awkward little girl with braids, now you were this young woman who looked so much like your dad.

He hastily made his way from the living room up to his makeshift bedroom he’s been using all these years. On the bed, perched up against some pillows was the porcelain doll. Brahms carefully picked up the doll, looking in it’s cold, soulless eyes for a moment before tucking the doll into his chest safely. He quietly rushed to the master bedroom, your room. He slid open the trap door in the wardrobe and slid through the child size hole. He pushed open the wardrobe doors and sat there for a moment, reveling in the smell of his parents. It was bittersweet to him that you made yourself at home in the master bedroom, his parents’ room. The bed wasn’t made, you had some weird kind of contraptions on the bed, there was some kind of drink can on the nightstand and clothes were messily piled in the duffle bag at the foot of the bed.

Brahms climbed out of the wardrobe but as he pulled his other leg out he bumped a sewing kit, it fell to the floor with a thud. Brahms stared wide eyed at the sewing kit. He listened closely as the music coming from downstairs softened. He picked up the sewing kit and remained in the wardrobe for a moment, listening for any signs that you were coming upstairs. But there were none so Brahms deemed it safe to proceed.

Brahms gingerly set the doll down on the bench at the end of the bed. He went over to the side of the bed to investigate these peculiar objects. One was white with blue accents and a mushroom cap and long handle with buttons.

Curiously, Brahms picked up the weird mushroom thing. His brows were drawn together as he inspected it. He must’ve been asleep when you unpacked this thing because he doesn’t remember seeing it last night.

Brahms’ nose twitched when he got the faintest scent coming off this object. It smelled sweet, like gingerbread. Brahms brought the cap of the device closer to his nose to get a better smell. He was entranced by it. He didn’t know what this thing did but if this is what you smell like then he’s a fan of whatever it is.

He set the device down on the bed again, moving onto the next odd thing that was sitting on your bed. It was flat and rectangular. It was plugged into the outlet bedside the bed. Brahms didn’t know what this thing was but last night he saw you playing with it for a solid four hours. Apparently this thing could play movies and television shows. Brahms was never allowed to watch television; the only time he ever sat in front of it was when he was visiting his big brother, Haydn at college in London.

Brahms’ ears perked up when he heard a creaking on the staircase. He immediately shuffled back towards the wardrobe, climbing in gracefully. By the skin of his teeth, Brahms escaped being found out. He closed the wardrobe door just as you appeared in the doorway with a crowbar raised over your shoulder, ready to swing at whoever was there. Brahms was amused by this sight. You, a maybe five foot three chaos gremlin, was armed with an iron crowbar while the six foot army cadet cowered behind you. It was an odd sighed for sure.

He peered through the crack in the door. Brahms cursed to himself when he realized the doll was still sitting at the end of the bed where he left it. And judging by the look on your face, Brahms had scared you senseless. He didn’t mean to scare you.

Brahms’ piercing blue eyes carefully watched you through the peephole he’d made many moons ago. It was late at night now; that other guy had left shortly after supper. If Brahms thought he hated that mystery guy before, seeing you act all cutesy and flirty with him all day made Brahms hate him more. But everything was alright now, the pest was gone and it was just you and him.

You had set up your Bluetooth speaker in the master bath; of course Brahms had no clue what that thing was until you started playing your music loudly through it. Brahms’ mind was blown; not only by this contraption that takes music from your mobile and plays it through what he presumes to be a speaker, but the music you were playing. He’s never heard this kind of music before.

Brahms couldn’t help but do a little dance as the music played loudly in the bathroom. Brahms didn’t even care he completely missed seeing you get undressed, he was in his groove.

Brahms’ little dance session ended when the song ended. His attention went back to peering through the pound sized hole. He could only see your figure through the shower curtain. He felt his entire body go up in flames. There was a stirring within him, a familiar one. He felt it when Greta was here but with you, it came on a hundred times more intense.

Brahms had to rest his forehead against the wall as he peeked at you. He was already in minimal clothing due to the heatwave so he was thankful he wasn’t actually going to boil to death. His hot fingertips trailed down the wall until they got to the level of his hips. Brahms felt a straining in his boxer briefs; something was begging to be released. Which Brahms obliged, pulling the waist band of his under down until his underwear was snuggly wrapped around his thick muscular thighs.

He sighed with relief, only to be overtaken by a new strain. Brahms didn’t quite understand what was going on with his body; all he knew was if he did a certain thing it’d feel amazing and if he kept doing it then the Big Bang would happen inside him. And that felt amazing. He also doesn’t quite understand the female anatomy. His mother didn’t really educate Brahms about sexual health. Scratch that, the only sex education he got was when he was around his older brother which didn’t actually help at all because it was Haydn explaining sexual innuendos in jokes to him.

Brahms’ eyes lingered over your pale frame as you stepped out of the shower. Brahms assumed you had a cold shower to cool down. His eyes widened when he finally got a look at your body. Your slim but overly curvy body was that of a dream. He particularly liked the dimples on your lower back. Brahms thought those dimples were the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

He cocked an eyebrow when his attention was drawn towards the artistry in the center of your lower back. It looked like a moth but he couldn’t get a clear enough look and his brain was screaming at him to reach out for you. He so desperately wanted to hold your bare body against his, him and you feel like fire in each other’s arms. He wanted to breathe in your scent again, this time right from the source.

Brahms couldn’t take it. His manhood was aching for release. Brahms kicked off his dark blue boxer briefs and silently rushed to his “room”. The air around him felt hot and thick, his breathing was quick and shallow. Needy tears formed in his eyes.

The moment he got to his room, he crawled onto his creaky bed, laying facedown. Brahms positioned one leg up, his knee was perpendicular with his hip while his other leg remained straight. The friction of laying down sent a lovely jolt of electricity from his groin.

Involuntarily he jutted his hips against his bed again, sending another jolt rushing through his body, completely drugging his brain.

Brahms let out a small whimper pathetically. He was so turned on by you that he was greedily humping his own bed at the very thought of you being close to him while naked. He couldn’t help but continue to rut his hips against the bare mattress. His grimy body glistened in the low light as a sheen of sweat layered his skin.

Needy whimper after whimper escaped his lips. He tightly shut his eyes, trying to envision you again. Your dark curls hung heavily past your shoulders. Your entire body glowed under the layer of water that still clung to your skin. You small frame standing in front of the mirror, examining your average sized breasts compared to your slim waist and wide hips.

A flash of him pinning you down by your neck from behind. Brahms’ entire body twitched and spasmed as thick white ropes sprayed out of him in pulses, he continued to rock his hips through his orgasm against the bed sloppily. He buried his face into a pillow. His jaw was clamped shut so his whimpers came out as high pitch whines through gritted teeth.

Brahms felt like he was floating on a cloud. He could barely keep his eyes open. Brahms’ attention was captured by the jingling of a small bell. Brahms watched as your fluffy white cat came strolling into his room with a rat hanging from her mouth.

He groaned loudly to himself as the cat dropped the dead rat in the middle of the room. Brahms isn’t particularly fond of pets but your cat has earned her place by taking care of the rodent population.

Brahms lazily sat up on his knees, peeling away from the cum soaked mattress. His entire lower abdomen was coated as well.

“Hmm,” Brahms groaned, taking a mental note to put down a sheet or something first. He grabbed the tissue box from the table beside the bed and began cleaning up. He merely wanted to go to sleep at that moment but he’d hate himself in the morning if he woke up to this mess. But that’s when it happened, the post orgasm clarity.

Brahms irked when he realized what he’d do: he just orgasmed while thinking of his niece. He knew it was wrong, that’s why he got the ick from what he just did, but he also didn’t feel guilty about it. Brahms was perplexed by this situation and he’s never been perplexed by someone before. And that made him smitten with you.

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

Tagged: @hao-ming-8

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