#Brahms x male reader

[defectivevillain]

this wallpaper glistens

pairing: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, minor Malcolm/Reader

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

You're Brahms' new babysitter. What you expect to be a laughably easy job quickly turns into something much more complicated.

word count: 2.3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood/violence/stalking, non-con kiss (on the forehead)

author's notes: the pacing of this fic is a bit rushed, but it's fine.

also, the title is from dollhouse by melanie martinez because it fits too well.

You’re starting to think the Heelshires didn’t offer you nearly enough money for this. As you stand in the stately halls of their home, you have to second-guess why you came here. Sure, you need the money and your job search recently hasn’t been successful. But does all of that justify caring for this doll, Brahms—one the Heelshires adamantly treat as a real boy? You don’t think so.

Regardless, you’re here now—and you’d feel guilty for leaving the Heelshires’ home unoccupied in your departure. So, like it or not, you’re stuck here for a few weeks: until the elderly couple returns from their vacation. That excuse had been a bit confusing—when you asked them about their plans, they were strangely tight-lipped. But you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth: as you agreed to get paid thousands of dollars for doing virtually nothing. 

At least, that’s what you thought. Then Mrs. Heelshire had given you a list of absurd rules… and you started to question things. They started off with innocent tasks, like reading Brahms a bedtime story every night and dressing him each morning. But they quickly grew strange and inexplicably strict. You’re not allowed to leave him alone or cover his face; you have to kiss him goodnight each night; and you’re forbidden from entering the attic. The Heelshires leave soon after they list these rules, leaving you with no rational explanation for this strangely humane treatment of an inanimate object. 

Now, you’re left alone in the house with nothing but a creepy doll for company. You have to admit it—the thing is unsettling. His eyes are sculpted wide open; his hair is weirdly realistic; and his clothes are reminiscent of a schoolboy’s. You immediately decide the Heelshires’ rules don’t mean a damn thing: the doll isn’t real. And you’re not going to do things you’re borderline uncomfortable with—kissing him goodnight, for example—just for their sanctity. Besides, they made no indication that they’d be monitoring your behavior—instead simply trusting you to comply. 

The thought brings a sarcastic huff to your lips. You roll your eyes and pick up the doll by the arm carelessly, walking into the nearest drawing room and placing him in the armchair. Taken with a strange sense of spite, you pat the doll on the head sarcastically before promptly exiting the room and closing the door behind you. 

Now, you’re just left with one question: how are you supposed to spend your time here? You settle for exploring the house and looking for entertainment. The library looks particularly promising, and you spend quite a bit of time simply looking around in there. 

When you emerge from the library, the clock strikes 6 p.m. and you realize you’re growing hungry. Frowning, you head out to the kitchen—only to find the door to the drawing room cracked open. That’s strange. You know you left the door shut, promising yourself to leave the doll in there and never return. Frowning, you glance into the room—only to find things exactly as you left them. Dismissing the strange occurrence, you head back to the kitchen and begin to make yourself dinner. At least, that’s your plan… until you notice the refrigerator door is slightly ajar. You shake your head in disbelief, shutting it and promptly scolding yourself for attributing any significance to the sight. 

Your first night passes without much fanfare. You wake up the next morning to find the door to the drawing room shut, which is a welcome and relieving sight. You must’ve just been paranoid earlier. Everything in the house looks exactly the same. (Although, why should you have expected otherwise?)

You split your time between reading, watching television, and making meals for yourself. It’s all horribly mundane, and if you weren’t getting paid for it, you think you’d be complaining. But you are getting compensated—as you’re reminded by the arrival of Malcolm one day, a man who seemingly works with the Heelshires. He gives you your first week’s pay and some groceries, before staying for some conversation. You have to admit, it’s rather nice to have some company. And Malcolm seems nice enough. The “no guests” rule does flit about in your mind, but you manage to push it aside. Malcolm leaves with the offer to call him if things ever go awry. 

Left to your own devices once more, you walk about the house in boredom. The drawing room door is exactly as you left it- Wait. You see a shadow pass across the ground in front of the door, as if there’s someone moving inside. Unnerved, you try to move away—only to hear the unexplained sound of music growing louder. There’s no one else in the house… and you haven’t played music since you arrived. Confused and a bit concerned, you remain standing in front of the door for a bit. Then, out of nowhere, the door slowly creaks open. 

The first thing you notice is that Brahms isn’t in the armchair anymore. Instead, he’s positioned with his back facing you—as he faces the open window. Swallowing past your growing unease, you decide to retrieve a blanket from your room and throw it over him. Then you firmly close the door and promise yourself not to go back. 

But it doesn’t seem to matter what you do: the doll keeps moving, as if it has a life of its own. When you walk past the drawing room after a mid-afternoon snack, you’re shocked to find the door open once more. And even worse, Brahms is standing in the doorway with the blanket fisted in his hand. You flinch in surprise as you’re greeted with the sight, your heart racing quickly. Brahms is still and unmoving. You crouch down and look into his eyes, which dispels any of your doubts. It’s just a doll. So why is this happening…? 

Is this some sort of karma for not enforcing or following the rules? Maybe the Heelshires are crueler than you thought, and they’re playing some sort of joke on you. You’d think they would have better things to do, but what do you know? Shaking your head in disbelief, you come to the unfortunate conclusion that you need to start treating Brahms as if he’s a living child you’re babysitting. Then, maybe, this weird behavior will go away—and whoever’s watching will stop messing with you.  

In the next week, you become the doll’s unofficial caretaker—doing everything from feeding and dressing him to reading him a bedtime story and kissing him goodnight. You’re not particularly happy about that last part, but you don’t want to take your chances and trigger any more pranks or jokes. After all, that’s really the only rational explanation for the doll’s movements. Besides, that conclusion puts your mind at ease. You don’t want to think about any of the other possibilities, because they’re both disturbing and increasingly fantastical. 

For a while, things are normal. Malcolm begins to stop by more frequently and the two of you get to know each other. He’s a pretty nice guy—and just about the only human company you’ve had throughout your time in the home. You’ve noticed that Brahms—or, moreover, whoever’s monitoring your behavior—always seems to act a bit restless when Malcolm is around. It must be due to the rule against guests; but, honestly, you’re not sure if Malcolm can be considered a guest, since he works for the family. 

When Malcolm reaches out to kiss you one night, you don’t stop him. Maybe it’s because you’re lonely in this house; maybe it’s because you’re bored. Or, hell, maybe it’s just because you’re starting to like him. Safe to say, you certainly don’t object to this new development—and soon, he’s backing you onto the bed of one of the guest rooms. 

Before things can escalate much further, however, the lights in the room flicker. You freeze; when they return moments later, the doll is lying on the bed next to you. You immediately flinch and Malcolm does too, the two of you quickly getting off the bed as any romantic tension in the air promptly dissipates. Both of you are weirded out by Brahms’ sudden appearance—a feeling which is only further amplified when you enter the main hall to find a message written on the floor. 

“NO GUESTS” is written in a troubling crimson hue. You only need to take one more step forward to recognize the coppery scent of blood, combined with the scattered corpses of rats from the traps laid around the house. Nausea stews in your gut; fortunately, Malcolm seems to have enough self-preservation to realize he shouldn’t be here, as he takes one look at the display and promptly flees the scene. You don’t blame him—and, honestly, you wish you could do the same. But the moment you take a small step towards the entryway, you recognize the uncanny sensation of breath hitting your neck. You whip around, only to find yourself staring into brown eyes behind a doll mask. 

A man stands in front of you, with dark messy hair and sweat-sheened skin. Your ears are ringing as you recognize the porcelain quality of the mask secured over his face—it’s horribly similar to the doll’s sculpted face. The man stares at you for several moments, tilting his head to the side and regarding you with interest. Your heart is thundering in your chest as you make the connection that has been eluding you this entire time: this man is Brahms. Brahms Heelshire isn’t dead—he’s been alive this entire time, residing within the walls of this house. And he’s standing in front of you. 

You immediately try to back away, but he swiftly reaches out and clamps a hand on your wrist. Then Brahms pulls you towards him, his hand rising to hold your jaw as he stares at you with an uncomfortably scrutinizing gaze. For several seconds, you’re frozen beneath his grip: entirely pliable as he studies you. 

What happens in the ensuing moments is a blur, as you’re easily manhandled into following behind him as he sneaks through the walls of the house until you’re somehow standing in the attic. The Heelshires’ rule immediately comes to mind: Never go in the attic. They knew about Brahms the whole time, didn’t they? Are they even coming back to the house? How long will you be stuck here? 

Immune to your frustrated thoughts, Brahms leads you towards his bed and silently gets under the covers. Then, he stares up at you expectantly. You look down at him in disbelief. Honestly, you’re still reeling from the thought that Brahms is actually alive—and has been hiding in the walls this entire time. You can barely comprehend that, let alone whatever the hell he’s doing right now. 

Clearly growing annoyed, Brahms yanks you forward and onto the bed—to the point where you have to shoot a hand out to catch yourself from falling into him. You’re now positioned over Brahms awkwardly, his hand on your collar tugging you closer to him. He’s staring at you expectantly, before he reaches out with his free hand and points to his forehead. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as you realize what he wants: a goodnight kiss. 

You’re not sure how long you hover there, fighting off your fear and apprehension, before Brahms grows impatient and harshly tugs you towards him. You quickly kiss him on the forehead and lean back, pretending not to notice how tightly he’s still holding you. 

In hindsight, it was foolish of you to think you could leave after tucking him in. Because somehow, even after you’ve complied with the rules, you haven’t done enough. You try to enforce some distance between the two of you, but Brahms growls and his grip on your collar tightens until he’s pulling you down again. A bolt of pure fear runs down your spine as you’re deftly maneuvered into a reclined position on the bed, lying next to Brahms.

Your heart is roaring in your ears and you’re breathing hard. If Brahms senses your anxiety, he doesn’t seem to care—as he instead breaches the distance between you and promptly fits himself against your side. His arm stretches out to wrap around your waist and you choke on a shaky breath. You can’t so much as adjust your posture even a minute amount, because he’s pushing you back into the mattress with an absurd amount of strength.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, staring up at the ceiling, before you chance a glance at Brahms. His eyes are closed and his breaths are calmer—he must be asleep now. You still have no hope of escaping: even a small shift in your positioning is enough for him to press into you further. 

It’s growing late, but you know you won’t be able to sleep at all. You’re only growing more restless as time passes, waiting for the inevitable moment when Brahms grows bored with you and kills you. After all, that was the entire reason behind his confinement, wasn’t it? He killed a friend at a young age; and his parents trapped him here in order to keep him from going to jail. 

The reminder is enough to send a renewed fear crawling up your chest. You don’t realize you’re crying until there’s a calloused hand wiping tears from your cheeks. Somehow, in your distress, you must’ve woken Brahms. He turns to the side and looks down at you for a long moment, before leaving inexplicably closer. Quick as lightning, he’s reaching down to press a goodnight kiss to your forehead—his porcelain mask almost cold against your skin. Then Brahms stares at you for several minutes. You’ve never felt such a stiff and oppressive silence before. 

Finally, after what feels like far too long, Brahms settles back in and closes his eyes once more—leaving you to your conflicting emotions and the uncompromising darkness. You’re not sure of much right now, save for one thing: it’s going to be a long night. 

thanks for reading! <3

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[zapreportsblog]

Can you do Brahms x Dom male reader

❝the enigmatic of brahms heelshire ❞

✭ pairing : brahms heelshire x male reader

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : behind closed doors brahms isn’t exactly what the town would think of him as

✭ slashers masterlist

Brahms Heelshire had always been a mysterious figure in the small town of Blackwood. With his stoic demeanor and enigmatic presence, he was the talk of the neighborhood. But little did they know, behind closed doors, Brahms shared his life with a dominant partner named (M/N), a man who held a captivating power over him.

(M/N) was a commanding presence, exuding strength and confidence in every step. He had a way of making Brahms feel both cherished and controlled, a delicate balance that sent shivers down his spine.

Their relationship was built on trust and mutual understanding, a dance of dominance and submission that both partners embraced wholeheartedly. Brahms reveled in the feeling of (M/N)'s firm hand guiding him, the way his touch could ignite a fire within him.

In the privacy of their home, (M/N) would often take on the role of the master, guiding Brahms through a world of pleasure and pain. The power dynamics between them were intense, yet tender, with each act of dominance serving as an expression of their deep connection.

Brahms found solace in the control that (M/N) exerted over him. There was comfort in surrendering himself completely, in allowing his partner to take the lead. It was a delicate dance, a delicate balance that brought them both immense satisfaction.

But their relationship extended beyond the confines of the bedroom. (M/N) was a pillar of support for Brahms, encouraging him to embrace his true self and pursue his passions. He saw the potential within Brahms, pushing him to explore his artistic talents and nurturing his creative spirit.

Together, they created a world that was uniquely their own—a world where Brahms could be both submissive and strong, vulnerable and empowered. (M/N) understood the depths of Brahms' desires, his need to be controlled and cherished, and he provided that with unwavering dedication.

As the outside world speculated about the enigmatic Brahms Heelshire, they remained blissfully unaware of the intricate tapestry of their relationship. To the outside world, Brahms was a mysterious figure, but to (M/N), he was so much more—a cherished submissive partner who embraced his desires with open arms.

Their love was unconventional, but it was built on a foundation of trust, respect, and unwavering devotion. Together, they navigated the complexities of dominance and submission, finding solace and fulfillment in each other's arms.

And as the world continued to wonder about Brahms Heelshire, they remained blissfully ignorant, finding solace and strength in the intimate connection they shared.

Brahms and (M/N) had always maintained a discreet presence in the town of Blackwood, keeping their intimate relationship hidden from prying eyes. But as their connection deepened, they felt an increasing desire to reveal their true selves, to embrace their desires openly.

One evening, as they sat together in the dimly lit living room, Brahms mustered the courage to voice his longing. "I want to show the world who we truly are, (M/N)," he confessed, his voice filled with determination.

(M/N) regarded him with a mix of surprise and admiration, his eyes shining with understanding. "Are you sure, Brahms?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Once we reveal ourselves, there's no going back. The world may not accept us."

Brahms nodded, his eyes filled with unwavering certainty. "I know it won't be easy," he replied. "But I can't hide who I am any longer. I want to live authentically, and I want to do it with you."

A smile tugged at the corners of (M/N)'s lips as he reached out to caress Brahms' cheek. "Then let's do it, my love," he whispered. "Let's show the world the depth of our connection, the beauty of our desires."

With their decision made, Brahms and (M/N) embarked on a journey of self-acceptance and liberation. They knew that revealing their relationship would be met with mixed reactions, but they were determined to live their truth.

They started by opening up to their closest friends, sharing the intimate details of their dynamic and the profound love they had for each other. To their surprise, their friends responded with acceptance and support, embracing their relationship without judgment.

Encouraged by this positive reception, Brahms and (M/N) decided to take a bolder step. They attended local LGBTQ+ events together, proudly holding hands and displaying their affection for all to see. They became advocates for acceptance and understanding, sharing their story and encouraging others to embrace their true selves.

The town of Blackwood slowly began to shift its perspective, as Brahms and (M/N) became symbols of love and authenticity. People started to see beyond the societal norms and embrace the beauty of their connection.

But not everyone was accepting of their relationship. There were those who held onto their prejudice and ignorance, casting judgment and spewing hateful words. Brahms and (M/N) faced moments of heartache and frustration, but their love for each other remained unshaken.

They found strength in their bond, supporting each other through the difficult times and rising above the negativity. Their love became a beacon of hope, inspiring others to challenge their own biases and embrace the diversity of human connection.

As the years passed, Brahms and (M/N) continued to live their lives authentically, unapologetically showcasing their love for each other. They became an inseparable pair, setting an example of love, acceptance, and resilience.

Their story resonated far beyond the boundaries of Blackwood, reaching people from different walks of life who found solace in their journey. They became a symbol of love's triumph over adversity, reminding the world that true happiness lies in embracing our authentic selves, no matter the obstacles.

Through their courage and unwavering commitment to each other, Brahms and (M/N) left an indelible mark on the town of Blackwood and the hearts of those who encountered their story. And in the process, they taught the world the power of love and acceptance, forever changing the narrative of what it means to live authentically.

[thegayspencerreidstan]

Hi, I have a request

Brahms, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair with male reader who's like really tall and strong ( like their victim ran away and male reader killed them with his bare hands or something like that) can be fluff or a little suggestive (it's your choice)

UM ABSOLUTELY,,,😍

Slasher HEADCANNONS

Brahms Heelshire

Bro probably crumbles to his knees

He finds you even hotter than before-

Since he's a horny guy...well, prepare for this mf to be LATCHING onto you, of course, if you have no interest in sex and explain to him, he won't be upset

He sees you like,,, crush someone's head or whatever and he'd probably just Blurt out "now do that to me but with your thighs-" but he'd also be upset that you killed his victim and he'd probably cry and whine about it later

He's a bit scared of you because he knows that if he makes the wrong move, he's done for

But he loves you and your amazing strength regardless

Mf probably doesn't say shit, he's amazed and shocked of course, but he just stared at you

He's a bit scared ngl, but at the same time he loves it

,,,he's definitely pissed that you killed his victim,,but he's also very grateful

Probably brings you with him when he goes on lil killing sprees

He's always happy to get some help

God I'm a slut for Vincent...

ANYWAYS

He's definitely shocked, but at the same time..he's fallen head over heels even more than what he already has

Probably makes you a wax animal or something as a sign of appreciation

DEFINITELY gets you to help him bring more people to make into wax sculptures

Even though he's usually really busy, after that incident of you...yeah, he probably cuddles you alot while admiring your arms and hands because this mf is FLABBERGASTED at your strength

But of course, he also loves it

Probably tries to tell his brothers about your amazing strength (but of course...Bo doesn't care smh,,) but Lester is amazed and they probably try to test out your strength a lot (with Bo watching from a distance)

[sleeepy-sim]

Brahms♡

Just stuff I think Brahms does, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n or that reader is female or male, no smut just fluff and a lot of kisses, short af (sorry), link the the pic, only prof read half so let me know on any mistakes please, and if you want me to write something let me know. Have a good day!! ♡♡

Brahms vision of you could never be tainted, no matter what you did. Try to run way? That’s okay, he’ll still love you. Hurt him? That’s okay too, you didn’t understand. Brahms thought no matter what would happen he would always love you.

It’s true, after he finally showed himself to you, he was even more in love, if that was possible. He loved when you took care of him, when he could finally lay his head on your stomach, and if you didn’t like that then we would lay his head down in your lap, while you ran your fingers through his soft black curls as you read to him. 

Even if you burnt the food, that’s okay, he’d still eat it. He’s taking a bath and you get soap in his eye’s, that’s okay, a kiss will help. He loved spending his days with you, a part of him wishes he could have come out of the walls sooner, but then he wouldn’t know what’d you like, what made you scrunch your beautiful face up. 

Brahms loves your kisses, whether they were cheek, nose, forehead, neck, but his favorite were when he’d get to have his lips against yours. He’d love how it felt like you were one whole person, to him it felt as though he was absorbing you body, and he wanted nothing more than that. He loves being close, going to the bathroom, he’s knocking and trying to peek his head in. You locked the door “WhY?” No matter how many times you tell him you want your privacy, he still wants to be in there with you. 

I feel like the only time this man would go into the walls was when you would lock him out. Taking a bath, watching. Taking a poo and not letting him in and saying no to his bribes, watching. He so would  stand there outside the bathroom door trying to bribe you into letting him in “Kisses, I’ll give you as many as you want!!” “I’ll be extra good for youuuuu” “Please, please, please”

I have a feeling that even after you put him in his bed and gave him his goodnight kiss, he’d slowly creep to your room trying not to make noise. After successful making it into the room, he’s so going to snuggle up to your body, whether your cold or warm this man is not going to miss a chance to snuggle with you. 

You locked the door, he’s is going to not stop bothering you about why. “I thought you loved me��� He’s is going to pout until you give him kisses. 

This man has two levels of clinginess, level one, following you around, holding some part of your body, and staring. Level two is all that and sniffing your hair, neck kisses, and more hugs than normal the list goes on.

[lightdustchild]

Brahms?

Literally just finished watching the boy for the millionth time, and I've successfully gotten the urge to write for him. Enjoy our musty man and some fluff 💙🖤

Brahms x male reader

You had successfully gotten the job as a nanny the amount they were paying was ridiculous but you agreed. Of course you did not expect a doll of all things to be the thing you were taken care of. The parents were shocked as well saying brahms never said a man was okay to watch him but he liked you so maybe he had a change of mind. Before hugging you the lady whispered "I'm sorry" in your ear and left giving you the rules.

You followed the rules you just felt like you had too maybe they had cameras to make sure you were following them. Thats the excuse you had come up with but in reality you had found yourself growing attached to the doll. You always felt eyes on you it bothered you at first but eventually you found an odd comfort in it. Seeing as being alone bothered you feeling as if someone was with you was oddly comforting for you.

People might as well eventually call you insane, why? Simple you started talking to the doll as if it were human and you always had the urge to be held by him but it was a doll not a person.

"Brahms?" You mumbled one day as you looked at the doll sitting across from you. " I don't know why but I have these urges like to be held by you even though I know you're not real" you said before letting out a dry laugh feeling as if you had gone insane. Hands touched your shoulders immediately your first reaction was a jump as you turned around eyes wide. A person was standing in front of you with a doll-like mask on their face and dark curls Falling over it. The clothes were quite dirty as well and the shirt was slightly open revealing a hairy chest. "Brahms?" You said quietly and the man titled his head almost child like before nodding.

"Hello" He said his voice was soft like a mere child as he spoke. He then walked closer and you wondered what to do though brahms had already decided what he was going to do as be wrapped his arms around you. You realized he was holding you,he came out of the walls because you wanted him to hold you. Hesitantly you wrapped your arms around him burying your face in his chest as he held you like you asked. Pulling away you tugged him over to the bed he looked confused but followed as you laid him down "Bed time already?" He said softly his voice laced with disappointment you smiled and crawled into bed with him laying your head on top of him. "Oh" he said in realization at what was going on before he wrapped his arms around you holding you as you fell asleep like that.

If you liked this please let me know you can also send a request for him I will do it 🖤💙

[2braincellslz]

Tw: abusive relationships

[sethistired]

Kissing Practice (Brahms Heelshire X OC)

This is Katharos, Brahm's childhood friend who was initially chased off by Brahm's conservative parents (he is trans and gay) due to his bordering-on obsession towards Brahms. He returns years later with a single goal in mind; staying by Brahm's side and he would do anything to ensure so.

Brahms is confused at the sight of him and his new gender identity but sees how sincere - and terrifying - his love is...returns it tenfold.

They are very deranged but in love so it's all good.

[rottingpirate]

Brahms Heelshire sfw alphabet

A = Affection (How much affection do they give their s/o)

The definición of clingy. Very affectionate and he likes to show it by constantly being around you and watching you. He really likes to hold your hand and would love to know how your hand fits in his.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You were probably trying to get hired as the nanny. He liked how nice and sweet you were towards the doll and he decided then and there that you were the one. In the beginning he didn't realize that he was falling in love.

His people skills are rough but as a friend he would be, like I said, clingy. Always there, always watching and when he gets more comfortable around you then he's always hugging you. The friendship will last until one of you dies.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How?)

D = Domestic (Can they cook or clean?)

He loves to cuddle. Brahms will silently creep into your room while you sleep and just hold you. Won't let you go after that for a long time. Down to be the little spoon or the big spoon, but prefers to be the little spoon. He likes being cuddled.

Other than that, he likes to use you as a pillow. He likes to rest his head on your chest so you can play with his hair.

No. Boy will struggle to understand how a fucking vacuum works for the first time. It's frustrating but also amusing to watch him try to peel a potato or cut onions for the first time. Personally I wouldn’t trust him with a microwave. He does get better after watching the way you do things and mirroring you. 

E = Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Let's not think about these things here :)

F = Fiance (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Brahms doesn't completely get the concept of marriage, however he does understand commitment, and he is indeed loyal. He wouldn’t mind it, but also not something he thinks about. He gives it time and doesn’t bother rushing it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally? so-so. He’s not going to be aggressive with it, but he always wants to make sure you know where he stands. Physically? He likes to pick you up and spin you around.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He's very into cuddles and hugs and stuff. Brahms loves hugs and physical contact. The king at giving bear hugs. When he gives big hugs they are so warm and snug, he doesn’t let go for a long time. Hugs you all the time, like it becomes embarrassing at some point. 

I = I love you ( how fast do they say the L-word?)

I think he would write it down. He confessed it in a letter. Even after knowing you for so long, the prospect of saying it aloud for the first time was mildly terrifying. The words seemed impossible, even after so long together. There are so many ways he can show you he loves you, so he doesn’t really care to say it. 

J = Jealousy (how jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Very easy to spot by his face and body language. Aggressively sensitive and insecure. When he gets jealous he wants everyone to know that he is yours and you are his.

K = Kisses (what are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’s inexperienced in the beginning, but he does learn quickly. Brahms likes all sorts of kisses, it really just depends on the time, place, and his mood. Usually, anything goes as far as he's concerned. He really loves to kiss you on the cheek though. 

L = Little ones  (how are they around children)

He doesn’t hate kids but he doesn’t exactly like them either. He doesn’t have any experience with kids and neither does he want any. He thinks if there's other kids around then you'll give them more attention and focus than him.

M = Morning  (how are mornings spent with them?)

Relatively quiet. If you don’t have plans for the day, mornings with him may be pretty lazy. You two will stay in bed late while listening to some classical music.

N = Nights (how are nights spent with them?)

Brahms is snuggly. Goodnight kisses. He's begging every night for a little goodnight kiss so you better give him some. He will come sleep next to you when he has nightmares, but like, he sleeps next to you regardless so it doesn’t really matter. "Can I sleep next to you? I had a nightmare :( "

If he can't sleep, then he just likes to stand near your bed and watch you. He'll stand there for hours listening to your breathing.

O = Open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Definitely slow to reveal things about himself. Always has an air of mystery to him. Man has been in survival mode for the last two decades so whether he trusts you depends on how long the two of you have known each other for. If Brahms trusts you enough he might trust you enough to take the mask off but even after that he prefers to keep it on.

He doesn’t like revealing things about himself in fear of scaring you away or simply because he doesn’t want you to know them.

P = Patience (how easily angered are they?)

He doesn’t get angry for small things, actually he rarely gets angry with you. It’s mainly when you do something he considers stupid.

Q = Quizzes  (how much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Brahms has a surprisingly good memory for the important things. But not so much for the mundane things. He’ll remember that self-loathing comment you made off-hand weeks ago, about how you’re obnoxious, or you’re stupid. He remembers all those little things, the warning signs, the red flags that something serious is going on that you’re not really talking about but it’s leaking out anyway.

For the mundane things like. “Can you go take a shower?” He has a harder time remembering. 

R = Remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Like I said, he remembers important things. He remembers the first time you two hugged, cuddled, and even held hands.

S = Security (how protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Brahms is 1000% protective. Doesn’t matter how strong and capable you are, he'd prefer to have you close and safe. 

T = Try  (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would put in so much effort and blush when you acknowledge it. His gifts are usually random like a shiny rock he found but he looks so happy when he gives it to you, that you end up liking it too. He also likes making little trinkets or sewing little gifts for you.

U = Ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes he can be a little distant. It isn’t a major issue, but sometimes he just disappears into the walls for a while. He never means it of course, but sometimes he just needs to be alone to think. 

V = Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s quite insecure about how he looks but that doesn’t stop him from not showering or bathing. You have to bargain with him and give him rewards for washing himself and then he will start showering more than once every three weeks.

W = Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

I don't think so. He’d be just fine without you, but he does want to be loved and appreciated. He might feel empty and sad but don’t we all feel that? He would feel kinda lonely. 

X = Xtra (a random headcanon for them)

He’s a huge craftsman. 

Not a headcanon but please get him some nice shoes. MY BOY IS LIVING BAREFOOT IN THE WALLS.

Y = Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He hates mean and rude people. 

Z = Zzz  (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Brahms loves to lay his head on top of your chest, he is touch starved he damn near clings to your body every night. He craves that closeness and contact since he met you, and he sleeps so well with you as his pillow, blanket and plushie all in one.

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Press Here for Rules

Simon Kalivoda ( Fear Street)

Head canons

Fics

Coming soon

Brahms Heelsire ( The Boy)

Brahms Heelshire (Omega)

Fics

Coming soon

[alina-dixon]

Fandoms I write For: (Part 3)

(I only write for x male readers!)

(smut is allowed!)

House of Wax:

- Vincent Sinclair

- Bo Sinclair

Detroit: Become Human:

- Connor

- RK900 (Nines)

- Gavin Reed

The Boy:

- Brahms

The Hobbit:

- Thorin Oakenshield

- Kili

- Legolas Greenleaf

Fantastic Beasts:

- Albus Dumbledore

- Gellert Grindelwald (Johnny Depp/Mads Mikkelsen)

- Newt Scamander

Hannibal (TV series)

(closed for now!)

- Hannibal Lecter

- Will Graham

The Sandman:

- Morpheus

[riotlain]

ik i dont post slashers thag much but heyy

pspspsps send asks for brahms please pspspsps

[pastelclovds]

3. “Please kiss me.” w/ brahms pls and ty

- 🛸

brahms didn’t have the best personal hygiene before he met you, but ever since you found out about the man hiding in the walls of the mansion you were supposed to watch over along with a doll version of brahms, you made it your life’s mission to make sure he bathes regularly.

brahms didn’t always comply though, and often threw tantrums unless you joined with him (which was very common, little pervy bastard). usually the washing started out innocently, until brahms turned it into a heated fuck session. this was no different.

brahms cries echoed throughout the walls of the bathroom, the warm water enveloping the both of you in the tub made his face flush a pretty shade of pink as he held onto your shoulders for dear life. the water splashes out of the tub as your pelvis claps against brahms’ ass.

brahms lets out delicate moans in your ear every time your cock jabs his prostate. your hands that were previously scrubbing his body were now holding onto his hips as you made him take your merciless thrusts. you couldn’t help but grin when you hear brahms sniff and begin to tear up in pleasure.

“you can’t seem to control yourself, huh? always grinding against my leg when i reach for the soap, like a little slut,” you rest your back on the wall beside the tub as your pace quickens. brahms pulls away from your ear, staring at you with glossy eyes, “i-i’m sorry, i can’t help it. you feel so- so good. please kiss me,” brahms pleads with you.

deciding to have mercy on the pretty man, you grab ahold of his damp curls and pulled him onto your lips for a kiss. you swallow brahms’ whines as he came onto his stomach and in the water. you follow suit as you slammed into him and released strand after strand of cum inside his ass until it spilled. making the once clean water, a white mess.

after a few minutes of basking in your shared climax, you let out a groan when brahms suddenly rolled his hips, and judging by his blissful smile: he wanted another round. you weren’t going to leave the bathroom for a while.

[yourlocalcryingcryptid]

WINNER

Brahms Heelshire !

Okay it's time...

Tumblrs Sexyman Slasher Showdown

After days of deliberation and friendship ending arguments between myself and @restlesssucculent I am proud to announce the slashers of the first round!

The full (very messy and lazy) bracket will be posted later today! Best of luck - 🖤❤+🔮💜

[cece693]

Clean and Tidy (Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader)

Since it's October, I want to provide at least a fic for some of my like (not love) slashers. First in line is Brahams from the movie The Boy (2016.) Beware it's short and not my best work.

Summary: The Heelshire's never posted that nanny ad. After all, you were perfect for the job. Not only were you Brahms's nanny, but you were also the caretaker of the house when the Heelshire's were away.

tags: neat/clean freak reader, Malcolm gets killed, never liked him tbh, Brahms is a kitten with claws

The house stood still and silent, a heavy darkness pressing against the tall windows. Outside, the mist clung to the forest like a second skin, thick and immovable, drowning the world in a damp chill. The Heelshires were away again, leaving me to keep the sprawling estate in order. It was a duty I took seriously—order and cleanliness were my sanctuary against the madness that sometimes threatened to swallow this house whole.

And, of course, there was Brahms.

"Come on, Brahms," I said, crouching to examine the muddy footprints he'd left in the kitchen. "You know the rules. No mud in the house."

There was a rustle, a shift in the shadows, and he emerged from behind the pantry door. His face, obscured by his mask, tilted downward like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "I’m sorry," he said, voice muffled and low. "It was raining."

"Well, it’s still no excuse. Upstairs, now," I ordered, pointing toward the staircase. "Shower, and I’ll clean this up."

He hesitated only momentarily before nodding and slipping away. I watched him go, a mixture of fondness and exasperation warming my chest. He could be dangerous, I knew that. But with me, Brahms was different. Gentle. Almost eager to please.

Everything had been routine, until that night.

Malcolm had come by with the groceries. He was the delivery boy from town, bright-eyed and persistent, always lingering longer than necessary. I’d noticed the way his gaze lingered on me, the way his smiles grew bolder over time, but I’d never encouraged him. Yet, that night, as I was wiping down the kitchen counters, he cornered me, his hand slipping over mine.

"You know," he said, voice low, "you don’t have to stay cooped up here all the time. I could take you out—just the two of us. No one would have to know."

I pulled my hand away, disgust churning in my stomach. "I’m fine where I am, Malcolm. You should go." He didn’t listen. He moved closer, his hand reaching for my waist. I froze, my mind whirling, caught between indignation and the sudden sense of danger that flared hot in my chest. Then I heard it—a soft rustling, a creak from behind the pantry.

"Malcolm, I’m serious." I warned, my voice sharp. "Leave."

But before he could say another word, Brahms was there, stepping out from the darkness. He moved with a speed and ferocity I had never seen before, slamming Malcolm against the wall. There was a flash of panic in Malcolm’s eyes, a gasp—cut off too soon. It was over in seconds. Brahms was breathing hard, his body trembling, and Malcolm lay crumpled on the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood stained Brahms' crisp white shirt, bright and stark against the fabric. I should have felt something—fear, horror, anything—but all I felt was a strange calm.

"Brahms." I whispered. He turned to me, the mask hiding his face but not the hunch in his posture. He was waiting for a reprimand, for anger, for anything that would push him back into the shadows. Instead, I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I took in the crimson staining his shirt. "Look at you," I said, my voice almost a sigh, "you've ruined your shirt. How many times have I told you to be careful?"

His head tilted, confusion and a flicker of relief warring in his eyes. "I’m sorry." he whispered. I didn’t answer. I turned away, stepping around the body without a second glance, moving to the kitchen sink to wet a rag. Behind me, Brahms watched, still as a statue, his gaze never leaving me as I crossed the floor to him. I began wiping the blood from his hands, my touch brisk and efficient.

"I'll have to dispose of that shirt and the body, which is on the verge of staining the carpet—"

"I’ll clean it." Brahms offered quickly, his voice hoarse. He was eager to please again, desperate for approval.

"Good." I met his eyes, my expression stern but gentle. "But next time, Brahms, be more careful. Bloodstains are a nightmare to get out."

He nodded, something like a smile hidden beneath the mask. There was a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding that I wouldn’t send him away, that I wouldn’t abandon him like the rest. I didn’t say another word as I watched him slip off to dispose of the evidence, like a cat slinking off with its prize. The house was mine to care for, and that meant caring for Brahms—the strange, broken boy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, trusted me to stay.

[kunazz]

slashers who are ready to be at your service whenever you ask them. Who cares if they’re outside? Fuck them in the bathroom or bend them over the hood of your car once you guys are in a somewhat secluded area. Make the sex rough and quick, like you just wanna get it over with, make them feel as though they’re nothing to you, just a perfect hole for a perfect guy. They absolutely love that shit.

Bite their necks and tell them how dirty they are, how others would react if they saw the two of you at that moment, your cock buried deep inside their ass, filling them up until it was almost unbearable.

Humiliate them.

[whisper-in-the-night]

The author can tell the story with Asa /the Sinclair brothers/Or Brahms. You can choose who you want! How is your recent story with Thomas (it's great) can the above listed slashers be omegas and Y/N alpha?

I've been on Tumblr recently, and there are some things I don't understand what and how. By your recent post, I thought you were taking applications.📿✒️

Omega!Slasher x alpha!male!reader

Warnings: alpha!slashers, omega!reader, omegaverse

Note: thanks for your request honey! Hope you'll like it. Have a good day ;) ♡⁠

•••

Asa Emory

Asa didn't like people, no. The insects were much better. Insects were useful, but what about people? They just buzz, drink and lead a dirty lifestyle. He didn't have a special appearance, on the contrary, he was quite a big man for an omega who was really able to interest someone and find a mate. But he didn't worry too much about it either. People were loud, repulsive.

But you seemed different. There was something so calm and attractive about you. He felt like a fly caught in your sticky web, even though he didn't really mind it. At first, it was strange to have someone around. Emory was a loner. But over time, he realized that you can really be relied upon and trusted. The man might not have noticed you among other small human ants. But that day you were standing in your own garden. You had a private house with a small garden full of flowers. It seemed like you were a hardworking person who loved nature. You were trimming one of your bushes when a pale blue butterfly landed on your shoulder. This startled Asa. After all, animals and insects always feel good people, they are attracted to them. So you weren't like other people.

And now he was here.

It was getting dark. The lights were still on in your house. You were sitting in the living room by the fireplace in your country house and reading one of your favorite books. It was nice to live away from people, the hustle and bustle of the city. The wood crackled steadily in the fire. The room was warm and cozy, your feet were warmed by a brown blanket you bought once at a sale in another city. Your fingers slowly turned over the pages, while your tired gaze slowly slid over the black lines. It's too early to sleep, not yet.

You've been alone for the last two weeks, but you knew that the day of the calendar was coming when he was coming back. You don't know why he comes back from time to time, maybe he was really comfortable with you. Although he was clearly not that kind of person. He would rather call it.. the necessity. You can't fool your own physiology with even a ton of suppressants.

Finally, there was the click of the front door, which you never closed, there was just no reason. There were slow, unhurried footsteps in the hallway, as if you were waiting. And for sure, today you left the light on in the hallway, perhaps this little detail alerted him, the man who loved to move around in the dark like some kind of virtuoso moth. Finally, the heavy boots touched the soft carpet material, and the steps became softer. Perhaps you should still teach him to take off his shoes at the entrance.

A moment later, your blanket was thrown off, and now was laying at your feet. A feeling of heaviness covered your hips. You didn't have to look down to know that the man had his head on your lap. He always did that. He came when he wanted to. Did what he wanted to do. He knew he could get away with it, but he didn't know why. He probably would never have been able to really kill you, even though he still acted like he had a knife at the ready. But none of his blades were worthy of slicing through your tender flesh.

You slammed the book shut with a light clap, having previously put your favorite bookmark with painted butterflies, and put it on the edge of the sofa. Your fingers found their way to Asa's head, caressing his cheeks with the pads of your fingers through the material of his mask. It was a strange material that you had never touched before. Something soft and rough at the same time. It looked a bit like the robbers' masks, but it seemed like he had made it himself.

The man made a soft purring sound as he leaned into your touch.

It was strange to have such a big man on my lap. He was really big, especially considering his secondary gender, which he would never tell anyone about, except perhaps you. Even his former work colleagues were unaware of his omega status. It just wasn't necessary. But it seemed different with you. Even after several vaccinations, you could still clearly smell his beeswax and verbena. Even now, under the mixture of dirt, gunpowder and blood, you could still feel that delicate fragrance, causing a smile on your lips.

Asa sighed, finally closing his eyes and clasping his hands on his chest. He probably hasn't slept in days, which is not surprising. He often stayed up late, thinking through all his riddles and traps. Although it is possible that all this week he was just reading a book about insects and plants that you gave him for his birthday.

Lately, the man has been almost.. clingy. Every time he got closer to his heat, Asa became unusually clingy and looking for touch. Your touch. Up to this point, his every heat was accompanied by pain and anxiety. The suppressants didn't always help, and the people around were too intrusive. Especially alphas. He remembers how, back in his teenage years, some alpha harassed Asa. The guy broke his nose. In principle, he often reacted aggressively to the attention of others. The quiet and secretive man, capable of ripping open the belly of an offender. His temper and uncontrollable aggression often got out of control, which led to sad consequences.

But it was different with you. Your touch felt so.. alive, sincere, gentle. Each time it made him have a sudden urge to take off his mask and feel your hands on his bare skin. But he immediately stopped himself, realizing that he would regret it later. The mask stays on.

You were a good alpha. So much so that something inside him reached out to you, seeking your touch and love. Asa isn't used to love. Isn't used to tenderness. But with you, he felt like he wanted to be pampered, wanted to be taken care of. Although it looks like regular one-night stands to you right now, it's far from the case for Asa. Perhaps one day he will even reveal his face to you. Would you like him? Would you like to start a family with him? Family... He's not sure he could stand the idea of children, no. But with you, everything seemed real. You were his support in life, his firefly in this dark world, even though you didn't know it yet.

But no, that's all later. Let him sleep on your lap for now. Maybe your back will hurt tomorrow because of the uncomfortable sleeping position, but it's worth it, isn't it?

Bo Sinclair

It was a sultry summer day. The sun was high in the sky, and the humid air made being outside even more unbearable.

You were with your boyfriend Bo at his gas station and helped him sort out the parts in the victims' old cars. There was no air conditioning in the room, so you, already soaked with sweat and grueling work, were without a T-shirt, in only loose trousers. You often begged Bo to go to a store in another city to buy you more suitable summer clothes, but each time you two found yourself overwhelmed with work.

When you were taking out another box of garbage, you noticed a car approaching. Regular tourists, even in this heat? Fate is obviously against you. After putting the box on the ground, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaned against the wall of the gas station, and watched the girls getting out of the car. They were two short girls and a guy with them who stayed in the car.

"Hey, handsome. Could you take a look at our car? There was something pounding in it all the way," one of the girls said with a slight smile, obviously flirting with you.

You smiled back, wanting to enter a new game and show all your skills and charisma in the best light. "Sure, babe. Give me a few minutes." You walked up to their car, lifted the hood, and began to pretend that you were really looking for a breakdown. Although in fact, you just needed to stall for a little while until Bo noticed what was happening through the window. The girl came a little closer, as if carefully watching your examination, while her slender fingers slowly slid up your strong arm. You grinned as you watched her. Your gaze darted to the guy in the passenger seat. He could be a problem. You smiled benevolently and nodded towards the gas station, "Buddy, why don't you call my friend? He's insane. I could use someone else's help."

The guy rolls his eyes, but gets out of the car and soon disappears inside the gas station. You know perfectly well that Bo will deal with him skillfully.

The girl's actions stop for a moment and she looks at you from under her eyelashes, seductively biting her lower lip. "Can you tell me where the toilet is here?"You chuckle and wink at her, leaving an ambiguous hint, "The second door on the left." The girl nods contentedly and enters the building, playfully wagging her hips.

You quietly approach the remaining girl while she looks after her departing friend, and grab a hunting knife from your pants pocket, cutting the fragile girl's throat with a sharp movement. When the lifeless body ends up on the floor with a thud , you fold the knife and return to the gas station. The girl was just coming out of the bathroom. You grab her wrist, trying to block her view of the window with your wide body, and squeeze her hips, pulling her closer to you.

"Come on, you didn't think of leaving so easily, did you?" You purred with a grin, burying your nose in the girl's neck. The cloying scent of cheap perfume and disgusting, almost artificial pheromones immediately hit your nose. "I bet that lad is really boring, right, baby?" You spoke into her neck, trying to play the interest. You were already reaching for the knife in your pants pocket when the girl let out a sharp scream, clutching at her throat. You took a step back, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and saw that your lover's screwdriver was pierced through the woman's neck.

Bo grabs the girl's hand and throws her to the floor. The poor girl clutches at her throat, choking on her own blood. The smirk on your face becomes more noticeable when you notice Bo's dark eyes burning with jealousy. The man steps over the girl's legs and comes closer to you, grabbing you by the neck and pressing you against the wall. You giggle, covering his hand with yours.

"What, baby? You don't like it when I use your methods, do you?" You purred, watching Bo's face contort in anger.

"Shut up."

His strong arms are gripping your shoulders, and his nose is burrowing into your neck. He showers your skin with careless kisses, circling around your scent glands. He mumbles something softly, and you feel his already bright pheromones amplify. A million times better than that girl's smell. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling Bo closer, to which he mumbled contentedly. You always liked how jealous and possessive he became in those moments when he realized that he really loved you and that, damn it, he wasn't ready to share you with anyone else. You were his alpha, and he was your omega, although he would never say it out loud. He often denied this desire, refusing to really consolidate this connection. After all, people would rather settle on a free omega to claim than a marked one. Alphas don't like to take other's stuff. But seeing other omegas circling around you, enjoying your pheromones, made him mad. Anger was bubbling deep in his stomach, and his heart was clenching.

"What is it? Jealous?"

Bo lets out a slight growl and tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. His fingers are gripping your shoulders tightly.

"Mark me," he mutters, looking down at the floor.

"Baby, you're not in heat right now.."

"Mark me. Now. Please.." his voice almost trembles, and you tighten your grip on his waist, "Mark me. Show me that you need me... that you want me, not them."

You pulled him closer, touching his neck with your lips and showering small kisses on his skin. A soft sigh escapes from Beau, he closes his eyes. Finally, you sink your fangs into his sensitive spot, the man's body shudders with pleasure. Even if he is not in heat now and the mark will be short-lived, it gives him a strange feeling of calm. He belongs to you. He's yours. And you're his. Nobody else's.

"..thank you."

Brahms Heelshire

You were walking slowly through the mansion, heading towards Brahms. The last item on the list remains: the night kiss. Lately, Brahms has looked kind of nervous and detached, although not so long ago he threw a tantrum after Malcolm delivered groceries once again and stayed a little longer than usual, chatting with you just about nothing. After that, Brahms made a real mess. He even refused dinner, which was unlike him. Although this man was basically quite strange because of his upbringing, you couldn't blame him.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, clutching a mug of warm mint tea. It was supposed to help your boy sleep. There was no response. But you heard the distinct creak of the bed and a slight whine.

Frowning, you pulled the door handle and went into the room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. Brahms was sitting on his large bed surrounded by clothes. Your clothes. His hands were convulsively clutching your clothes, shifting shirts from place to place the way he wanted. The man took one of the shirts and held it up to his face, taking a deep breath. His mask was pushed up just enough to show his nose and lips. Bitten lips with blood in some places. He seemed to be trying very hard to hide the sounds he was making. Brahms let out a soft whine, clutching one of your favorite shirts to your chest, which you wore this morning because it was cool in the garden.

It seems your boy was pushing you away without realizing that he needed your presence.

You let out a short laugh and entered the room. Putting the mug of tea on the dresser, you walked over to the bed. Brahms immediately tensed up when he heard someone else's footsteps. Looking up, the man caught your gaze and let out a slight whine. Right now, he looked like a lost needy puppy. You could swear that if he were a dog, his ears would be desperately pressed to his head right now, and his tail would be tapping on this mountain of clothes around him. Brahms crawled to the edge of the bed on his knees and grabbed the edge of your T-shirt with his fingers. His grip was strong, yearning, and his eyes were full of unspoken emotions. He didn't know what was going on with him, he didn't know why he felt that way and why he was doing these things, so he hoped that you would help him.

Your hand gently touched his hair, your fingers gently played with the curly strands. The man bent down to your touch, making a soft sob, and closed his eyes. Your hands were always so gentle and caring, you weren't like his past babysitters, you were different. You were good and kind, you even treated his doll well, like a real person. And now you've treated him well too.

With your free hand, you touched his chin gently, pulling his thumb away from his skillful lips. A few greased drops of blood were on your skin, but Brahms immediately, almost instinctively, wrapped your finger tongue, cleaning it from the lingonberry color liquid. He looked at you with those big brown eyes of a puppy, and you couldn't smile. His lips gently wrapped your finger, wanting to make you feel good. You always did everything he felt good, maybe he should be make you feel too..? You gently pulled him by the hair, laying on the bed. The large body of the man touched your clothes neatly folded into the improvised nest. You lay beside him, sipping Brahms gently to yourself. Even though Brahms was a big man, you were a little bigger than him, more muscular and strong. It always made Brahms feel small and free. He didn't have to hide under the mask, he didn't have to hide in the walls, no. Brahms was just a few minutes away. You took it all, with his problems, his capricious and his appearance. You loved him for himself. He was your little boy.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, snorting his nose in your chest and squeak softly. With every second his body burned harder and harder, and in his head seemed to be a light mist. He was holding his nose harder in your chest, looking for comfort. You gently ran your hand over his hair, releasing the soothing pheromones through your groin glands. Brahms relaxed a little while, enjoying your smell. You always had your effect on him. Maybe he was your true omega. But it wasn't important now.

You pulled the man closer you, gently humming a lullaby , and pressed a kiss to his mask's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, baby."