#the boy 2016 reader insert

[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.

[i-heart-slashers]

FOLLOW THE RULES | Brahms Heelshire

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Brahms Hellshire x female!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your car breaking down was the worst of your worries until it wasn't.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.5 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | imprisonment

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This was something I wrote and posted two years ago but I deleted that account and didn't realize it made that post unreadable. So if you see this one and the 'broken' one they're both written by me.

As another lightning bolt struck the dark blue sky, you quickly ducked into the large manor. This wasn't what you had in mind when you set off for a one-person road trip to have your car break down and get lost.

"Hello?" In case you were breaking into someone's, you called out into the quiet home, but it seemed too silent to be inhabited.

The cobwebs and dust were more than enough to make you realize that the place had been abandoned, not that you were sure why it looked like a beautiful manor.

"Greta?". A small, sad child's voice called out, making you gasp. Were they alone? Did they need your help? You had just quit your babysitting job to travel, so you were good with kids.

"Hello?" You called out again as you made your way upstairs and followed the child's voice. Your breath catches in your throat when a tall man walks out of the shadows.

"You're not Greta!".

You froze in your spot as the man, well over 6 feet tall, stepped into the slither of light made by the moon through the windows. The porcelain mask on his face hid all his features well except for the dark, rage-filled eyes.

"Get out!" a guttural growl escaped his lips as he began to stalk towards you. The fury in his eyes never changed; instead, they seemed to get darker when you put your arm out in front of you protectively and tried to back away.

"Please! I just need some help," You stutter, taking steps backward as he moves closer. "My car broke down, and I-" your words were cut short by a growl and the man lunging towards you aggressively.

Letting out a terrified gasp, you quickly turned on your heel and ran into the closest room to you. Slamming the door shut, you locked it just in time as fists began pounding on the door.

The man outside the door sounded feral, and his angry growls only worsened. This was nothing like the childlike voice you had heard before.

Sliding down the door, you sobbed, wrapping your arms around yourself before realizing that the noise was now gone. It was completely silent, almost as if it never happened.

You would have talked yourself into believing it was some type of delusion from being cold and soaked to the bone. Until the wall in the closet slowly started to slide open. 

Screaming, you threw yourself at the closet door and locked that shut as you wedged the dresser against it.

Between your scared crying and the furious banging, it almost sounded like the whole house was vibrating, or maybe it was just because your entire body was shaking in fear.

"Please-" you begged through the door as you curled into yourself, hoping the man would see sense and stop so you could quickly exit, leaving this crazed man's home.

Glancing around the ransacked room, you guessed that this wasn't the first time this had happened. 

Sitting in front of the dresser, you used yourself as another block and dropped your head onto your knees. Then, as the sounds of the man's banging stopped, you cried to yourself. 

You knew he was still in there because of the creaky floorboards being pressed as he moved around.

It was almost as if he was listening to your pathetic crying.

Coming to you lifted your head up from your knees quickly with a groan from passing out in an awkward position and still being a bit damp from the torrential rain outside.

Glancing around, you remembered what happened and where you were. You must have fallen asleep waiting for the man to leave you alone.

Halting yourself, you tried to listen for any sounds in the big house, even the tiniest of creaks, but there was nothing, only the sound of rain pouring. This was your chance to get out while you still could.

Standing up slowly, you tried to pick your feet up quietly and walk with a lighter step. Almost as if you were a teenager trying to sneak out while your parents were sleeping, but this was nothing like all those times.

Opening the bedroom door slowly, you peeked around the door for any crazed men. But he was still nowhere to be seen; your next step was to look for a weapon. 

Unfortunately for you, the only items in the room were messy clothes, women's toiletries, and a used hairbrush.

Resigning yourself to having no form of a defense weapon, you trudged on, hoping you wouldn't need the weapon in the first place. The man was taller and much bigger than you.

He would win any fight you might have.

Slowly making your way through the hallway, you prayed on every and any god that came to mind for help as you carefully tiptoed down the stairs, trying to avoid any old floorboards that would alert your attacker to you.

The silence was killing you more than knowing that somewhere, a masked lunatic was lurking. Undoubtedly, he knew every hiding spot in the big manor, and it seemed he had hidden doors around, too.

Seeing the manor door insight, you almost cried in relief as you picked up the pace and rushed towards the door, ready to swing it open and run for your life. 

You had no idea where you would go from here, but at least you would be away from this place.

Reaching for the door handle, your stomach dropped when it didn't budge. Tugging on it and urgently shaking it, you realize the man had locked you in with him.

"No, no, no," you whined pitifully as you tried to force the door open. Your face felt heavy with tears while you desperately searched the door for any lock you might have forgotten to open. 

Seeing nothing, you ran your hand down the wood until it reached the brass key lock and let out a shocked, laughing sob. He had locked it with a key. 

There was no way for you to get out this way without it.

You heard noises behind you as you were about to think of another exit strategy. Instead of running, you just freeze facing the door like a child would when put in time-out.

In a weird, childlike moment of fear, you closed your eyes in the false belief that if you couldn't see him, then he couldn't see you either.

The hair on the back of your neck stood at attention when the feeling of being watched overcame you like a sea of hot water. Subtly glancing over your shoulder, you frowned, seeing no one there.

Unless you counted a creepy-looking porcelain doll.

Gulping thickly, you continued to turn, placing your back firmly against the door as your breaths came out ragged and fearful. This was the part in horror movies where dumb idiots like you get killed.

You stared at the porcelain doll perched on the bottom step of the staircase. 

Its face was fractured, and it looked like someone had tried to glue it back together. Its dark eyes bore into yours, unmoving, and with lightning cracking through the silence, it left a suspenseful atmosphere in the dangerous situation.

That wasn't the creepiest thing, however...

How had it gotten here? 

You weren't naive enough to think that the doll had walked here itself like some possessed creepy Chucky doll. Knowing you weren't alone and who the culprit was only gave you shivers. 

Why would he have gone from almost killing you to placing a doll behind you?

At the next loud sounds, you resolved yourself never to want to find out as you pushed away from the door and ran towards the room you had come from, the only place you knew you were safe.

That room would have to be your safe haven until you could think of another plan.

A door banging downstairs and footsteps slamming the floor behind you only made you run quicker as the childish voice called out to you, but this time it went ignored.

Breathing heavily as you successfully locked the door again. You dropped to the floor and peered beneath the door, where you could see the outline of shoes as they stood outside the room.

Crawling to the wall next to the door, you placed your hand over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from crying again. He knew you were in there, and you knew that he was waiting for you; it was like a game of hide and seek.

A few moments passed as you sat and listened to the rain pelt against the window, wondering if the man would just stand there all night and morning until you tried to escape again.

Hearing rustling noises, you frowned until a piece of paper was pushed under the door. Tentatively picking it up, your eyes widened as you read the bold words, 'RULES'.

The childlike voice calls out once again, this time with a sharp edge, "Follow the rules!"

[limehaspassed]

Chocolate Hearts

(Brahms x GN Reader)

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬

In which you get into the holiday mood for Valentine’s Day and treat Brahms to a lovely date night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had originally seen the chocolate hearts when you were at the grocery store earlier in the week, then you had noticed them at a convenience store. They were nearly sold out, all but a few remained on the shelves. Their vermillion plastic shining in the dingy lights of that run down building.

It was already Valentine’s Day, a day you don’t typically celebrate. However, you found yourself walking out of that store with a box of chocolates and a small card. This year, unlike many others, was different, for you are not alone during this particular holiday. No, in fact, you had a clingy boyfriend waiting on your return, every second that passed was another second you would have to make up in hugs and kisses the second you walked through those massive front doors.

“Have someone special in mind?” The cashier asked to make small talk.

You smiled and nodded your head with a hum. “Returning to him hopefully soon. Depends on the traffic today.” You replied, glancing outside to the plethora of passing cars.

The cashier let out a small chuckle. “Good luck with that.”

Soon enough, you were heading on home, fighting your way through traffic. It didn’t take too long to get back home, however, you knew Brahms would throw a fit from how long the trip had taken you.

You pulled in the driveway and parked your car, reaching in the back seat to grab the bag of chocolates. You took the card from inside and quickly wrote Brahms a note. You then placed the card gently into the envelope and rearranged it on the heart shaped box.

Stepping out of the car, you locked the door, and made your way over to the house. The front doors practically flew open, revealing behind them a visibly upset looking Brahms. You could only chuckle at the odd stance he held, arms outstretched at his sides and feet more than shoulder width apart. He looked like a cat falling in the air, only vertical.

“I’m sorry it took so long.” You said as you walked up, box held behind your back. Brahms straightened his posture and crossed his arms. He glared at you, not moving from his spot in “I know I said I would be back in a few minutes but I got a little distracted. As you might know, today is Valentine’s Day, so I got you something.” You held the box and card out in front of you, offering it to Brahms.

Brahms tried to stay mad as he opened the box and card, however, you could see his anger visibly slip away as he read over your words. Once he finished reading. You moved closer and placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask, one he wore sometimes but not all the time anymore.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” You kept your voice low, almost a whisper.

Brahms wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He was still mad that you were late, you were gonna pay for it later but he was enjoying this moment right now.

“Your handwriting is horrible.”

You chuckled and pulled away, kissing him one more time. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 500 +

[physalian]

What No One Tells you about Writing #3

Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!

Part 1

Part 2

1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately

But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.

Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.

2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite

Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.

Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.

3. Outline? What outline?

Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.

Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.

4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel

I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).

Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.

5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.

Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.

Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.

6. Write the scenes you want to write first

And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.

And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.

7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?

No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.

A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.

[desertrose244]

Hii!!

I was wondering if you could share some of your favorite fics? I've been in a drought and was just curious 🦅

RAH YES I CAN THIS IS MY FAVOURITE QUESTION TO GET!

I wasn't sure if you wanted fandom specific ones so here's just a collection of some of my all time favourites. These aren't one's that I've linked on this blog before, just because I already have given those appreciation posts and I have SO MANY FICS and authors that I love. Anyways, all of these are /reader - and most have mature tags, so just be mindful : )

BG3:

[Ongoing!] Hellish Rebuke by @bludazey is an Ascended!Astarion fic that answers the open ended state we left Tav and Astarion in. It's dark and filled with drama in such an addicting way I am literallly almost falling off my chair waiting to see what happens in it! Everyone within it is characterised well and the lore put into our MC makes choices a much more 3 dimensional thing as they are not a blank slate like the ingame Tav! [Complete!] Aleatory by @avas-poltergeist is a prequel fic for a durge run centering Astarion x Durge and it's a fic that knows the tone it should take and executes it perfectly. I especially love how it doesn't hold your hand through it's narrative and doesn't treat it's reader as if they are stupid. Some actions, feelings and thoughts are almost done as if they are environmental storytelling and I am a SUCKER for it. Also I just adore the durge being a halfling- they are characterised perfectly. Transformers:

[Complete!] Gravity by @shinyportalsandthings - ohhh my god I dont even what to say. This fic is a Starscream fic and wheeew boi it can be hard to make the gremlin a compelling romance but this fic blows it out the park. The dialogue is witty and natural- I adore the scale of it because it's not a "let's end the millions of years long war" it's just a "let's go be happy" - UGHHH It's just so fun, redeemed Starscream I love you. ((More reccomendations for Transformers are on my metal dune, found here!)) Misc:

(Doom (2016)): [Complete] Rip And Tear (Into My Ass) by Goremungunder is one of two inspirations for my entire writing style. It's a Doomslayer insert fic and it's just perfect in every way. Such an enjoyable read and an excellent fic for a x reader tag that doesn't get much attention. I think about this fic at least once a month and have read through it like 5 times pls give it some love its amazing.

(League of Legends) [Complete - I believe- but set to ongoing] Dream a Little Dream by OrangeCrushCrushCrush is just hilarious and at the end of each chapter even features some art made by the author! All of their work is enjoyable to read, even without knowledge on the world or a pre-existing like for the character. I mean, the second half of this fic is centered around Yorick Mori- a character in League I had literally NEVER touched- but then I read this and mained top lane for like 4 months after.

I think I could actually go on forever, but I'll stop here for now. Thank you for the question Star! I really love getting to go through my bookmarks and deciding what I want to reread XD

[obscure-fanpage]

Requests are Open!

I've been wanting to write more recently, so please feel free to send me requests! I am happy to write NSFW and reader inserts :)

Updated Guidelines:

No underage characters or pairings

No scat, vore, feederism, piss, rape/dub-con, hypnosis, forced prostitution, forced slavery etc. (not here to kinkshame, just don't feel comfortable writing any of it)

No RPF just out of respect

I will try to write reader inserts as gender neutral as possible, unless otherwise specified in your request

Fandoms:

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

What We Do in the Shadows (TV Show)

Twilight

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (anime)

Creep (2014)

Evil Dead (Ash Williams Universe)

Halloween (Michael Myers)

The Boy (2016)

Scream (1996)

Slenderman

Marble Hornets

...and potentially more. Especially in the horror category :)

[velvetsqwyrme]

I saw ur tags and ran over here. What are ur favorite spicy UF! Papyrus fics?

HELLOOO LMAO you were so quick... sorry this took me a while to get together, but I hope you enjoy ( ù ᵕ ú )

Fair warning that some of these picks will include dub/noncon (and potentially other dubious content? I don't know what I'm going to add yet HAHA) so as always make sure to heed the warnings and read the tags before reading!! I've done my best to label them accordingly though :]

------

READER INSERTS

Edge Discovers the Wonderful World of Subbing

You can tell exactly what this list is going to be like just from the title of this first fic... (title is explanatory, gotta love it!!)

Good EdgeLord

More sub Edge!! 💥💥

Caught in the Act

HELLO?? HELLO. Voyeurism? Low stakes semi-public sex? Double penetration ?? Sign me UP.

Pumped (Kinktober Collection)

Usually I refrain from including individual Kinktober chapters from rec lists BUT I really like this one ( '^' )!! It isn't even that explicit, but it's stuck in my brain because I GASPED when I read it for the first time.

Pyr's Favourite Keeper [DUBCON -> CON]

Love me a snakey boy!!!!!! There's also oviposition 👀!!

Wake

Sleepy sex <3! The bit with the SNAP part killed me and it's also such a fun detail!

Prime Time to Run

Mafiafell... he straight up murders someone in front of you and you fuck about it.

Bound Edge

Sub Edge again!! The reader has a dick in this- a rare but delicious treat !

Fall Out Bones [NON/DUBCON...????]

Technically this is linked to a series featuring both UF!bros, because I think that both are reslly good partially also because I think they're intensely hilarious at times. The titles are also great.

Boned [NONCON]

CLASSIC 2016 PREMISE. Reader is trapped in the fucking shed. (Fucking used as both profanity as well as a descriptive action)

Housekeeping [NONCON]

Weird location (sink)! But it works really well for the fic!!! Violenctce.

To Prove A Point ||| The Origins Of The Pap-wich - (Swap!Pap/Reader/UF!Pap)

Ahhh the good ol threesome ! The reader gets sandwiched between two very sexy skeletons~ !! I'm also a big Swap!Pap fan so this is just. *Mwah* so good!!!!! Double penetration again ~ also one of the few fics with squirting 🙏✨

All Dicks, No skeletons [DUB/NONCON DUE TO DETACHABLE ECTODICK SITUATION]

I cannot put into words how much I love this. It's got detachable ectobits... inconvenience due to detachable ectobits!! In this, Edge has a barbed dick and claws up a tree. It's crack but it's so so good!!!!!! I'm patiently waiting for updates and will ravenously consume the fic for lime the fiftieth time when it does.

OTHER SHIPS

Also! Here are a few fics with UF!Pap in other ships (namely various Papcest configs) because you didn't specify it had to be reader inserts lol

Little Wet Bones (Papcest: Farm/Underfell)

Bitty!Edge is soooo cute... and horny!! He's so self assured I love it.

Pepper Heat (Papcest: Edgepuff)

Heat fic! Heat fic!! Chili peppers is one hell of a heat scent... the only person who can handle a Papyrus is another Papyrus ;] The naming scheme here is also very funny when you realise what went on.

A Fallen Knight and his King (Papcest: Edgepuff)

MORE SUB EDGE ! This one delves more into the his exploration of dom/sub dynamics and it's so so good!!!!

Three Chance Meetings (Papcest: Spicyhoney)

Swap!Pap is (secretly) a prostitute and Fell!Pap finds out and shills out the money to spend a night with him. I looooove the character dynamics in this one too.

Taste of Blood and Honey (Papcest: Spicyhoney)

I forgot about this and was delighted to discover it again because ohhhhhh my god the premise is so good... also there's mirror sex and first times and those are always fun :3c

Mutt Lost a Bet (Papcest: SpicyBBQ)

Mafia AU setting where SF!Pap and UF!Pap make and lose bets resulting in sexual escapades. The second chapter is my favourite because it involves gloryholes and aphrodisiacs <33

Bro's Replacement (Papcest + Sanscest : Spicyhoney + Cherryberry)

LAMIAS AGAIN 💖 Honestly the setup is what gets me... but the smut is delicious so I'm adding it here :3c

Heat (Papcest - Spicyhoney) [HEAT INDUCED MUTUAL NON/DUBCON]

Why are there so many lamia fics in this list, I do not know, but heeeeeeey enjoy the snakeys! In this one the non/dubcon is due to UF!Pap being in heat, and both of them regret it after. Things get better though!!

------

Anyway, that's all for now! Hope you enjoy some ^^!!!

[yobotica]

Fandom Homework

Idea by @razielim, I like the idea of sitting down and talking about the stuff I want to be working on! Mostly pretty rambly here, so I'll put it all beneath a cut:

It's all gonna be about the WIPs, baby! I think the thing that comes to mind most on 'boy I wish I could finish this' is actually the fallout AU I have for Assassin's Creed. ShaunDes, of course, but I think the ultimate plan was to try for OT3 with Clay on this one. I've never done it, but I get a lot of comments for that on my other fics and I think it would be interesting in this setting if I can make it work. I think the current plan for this one is more a sort of main 'how the group got together' vibe (all the moderns) and then snippets/side stories for some of their adventures. I do have an overall plot involving everyone figuring out who they are, secrets coming to light, etc. I just gotta get it all written is all.

Second is obviously to finish my in progress titanfall fic, which I usually just refer to as Weary, lol. While I've never once really felt pressured that updates are few and far between by comments on AO3, I sometimes regret posting it before it was finished. I never post WIPs as they're worked on because I am the slowest writer - once I get going, I can write pretty fast, it's just the getting started that trips me up. That, and i end up writing a lot of stuff that it turns out, it's not time for, or it's just not right for the story. I think I'm at like, over 15k words discarded for this fic overall, some of which has been repurposed/used already (just later than when it was originally written), but most of which has not. (Yet; I know at least two bits are just too early).

Third is a fic that is almost 10 years old and unfinished. It's only been posted up to chapter 10 on the assassin's creed kinkmeme, the last chapter of which was posted in 2016. It's almost complete, actually, sitting at just under 55.5k words, but I can't quite pin down the ending. Then it needs to be edited. Insert sad-cowboy emoji.

I'd really like to revisit my old DS9 stuff. I never published any of it on AO3 - in fact, I can't even remember if I've published any of it anywhere. It's some of the earliest stuff I've written, and it's pretty rough by my standards, but it's still something I'd like to get some time into and whip up into something readable at some point.

I want to learn how to draw transformers! I've wanted to for a while, but I recently watched Transformers One and it was gorgeous. There's a lot of different styles for the whole franchise, but I like that one a lot. That and Transformers Prime, which I haven't seen yet, lol. I'm a pretty recent fan, to be honest, but me and a friend have spent a lot of time making transformers OCs that I'd love to be able to draw just for fun. (It's the only reason I play Forza Horizon 5 at all, is to make the car forms for those that can be made in that game.)

I'd love to get works written for a few fandoms I've been into for a while, but never written for. Stuff like Dishonored, Legacy of Kain/Soul Reaver, Inception or even Dragon Age. Mostly based on vibes rather than concrete ideas (except for dishonored, which I have exactly one (1) idea that could be used for fic), but still. It's something I'd like to do.

Oh! I need to finish and edit the FFXV fic I have in progress! It could be considered complete enough, to be honest, but it feels incomplete to me for some reason. I wrote up to a certain point, then lost all steam. It's set post Episode Ignis alternate ending, a really, really cute and sweet fic.

I think one thing I'd like to do is maybe just post a collection on AO3 of my WIPs. I don't think of anything I've written as abandoned, even if it's been years since I looked at them, but I also do think some of it was pretty good! I don't know how readers feel about this, though.

I'd like to get more Deus Ex fic written, too. I had a few things perk my interested for kinktober but October was mostly a really shit month for me, so I got no writing done at all. I definitely don't mind using those prompts late or anything, but I still haven't got any creative juice for writing right now, so they're just sitting there, waiting for their time.

I've also had a few ideas that I think I might never write but maybe folks might be interested in hearing about or adopting themselves? Like prompts, maybe. Adoptable fic ideas. Mostly it's stuff I'd love to read but not research to write myself, but that feels a little selfish, lol. But I also just think they're fun to talk about and gush over even if they never actually get written.

I think this was nice to sit down and write out. I don't post very much about myself or my work, but I've enjoyed seeing people talk about things they'd like to get done or things they have in progress and thought I'd share. I'm wishing you all well and hoping you all have something creative you'd like to look forward to doing as well! <3

[slickfordain]

Fictional others

The sun and moon to my star/eclipse ~

♡ - This post / masterlist contains self-insert x canon

♡ - This is not an “x reader” masterlist, so please do not mistaken as it’s supposed to be a post of me/my self-inserts x my F/Os

♡ - Fandoms: Genshin Impact & The boy 2016

🍙𖥔 ࣪˖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 =͟͟͞

愛 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐡𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐫𝐚 •₊ 🌀 ❏ ❜

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

💌Self ship account💌

🎀Dainsleif, Neuvillette, Lumine/Aether [Genshin Impact]🎀

🎀Brahms [The Boy 2016]🎀

Fanart by: Khaiirriii and @theirimaginationkingdom

[ DO NOT USE / REPOST / HEAVILY TRACE / COPY OR EDIT ]

[ariana-maryse]

Preference

How Pennywise (2017,) Venom, Brahms Heelshire, and Canydman react to their s/o having a seizure

(For anon)

Pennywise

At first, he’d probably think you were doing it on purpose and would find it humorous. After seeing that it was serious, the shapeshifter would... well, he’d do everything wrong. Although he can see what you fear, he can’t see how to help it so he’d just go off of alien instinct and you’d probably need to see a doctor. He’d try, and he’d fail.

Venom

Venom absolutely would not understand what was going on with your human body. He’d know that you weren’t well and would try to help, but would probably make things worse. Whether he’s your symbiote or not, he’s taking over. You’d probably have to guide him on what to do once you came to because he would be stressed.

Brahms

Having spent nearly all of his life alone in walls, Brahms would have some knowledge about what to do. He’d do the bit of proper CPR that he knew. He’d be mostly calm, but inside he’d definitely be panicking. He’d even consider calling emergency services, but he’d wait to make sure it was necessary.

Candyman

He’d be worried, for sure, but he’d also remain calm. Although he wouldn’t know exactly what to do, he’d try his best to make sure that you didn’t injure yourself. His instincts would be pretty spot on, too. Once it passed, he’d gently move you to wherever nearby was the most comfortable and ask you what you needed from him.

[macabrebatz]

I have a pretty cute request! for the slashers (you can write whoever!) where there s/o is like a gardener and surprises them with a bouquet of their favourite flowers or very pretty flowers that they think that the slashers would like?

Author's Note: I got this request and it's such a cute idea. I obviously didn't do all the slashers, just the ones I thought of while writing this. But if you guys want a part 2 with more slashers by all means let me know. I hope you enjoy!

Giving the Slashers Flowers

Jason Voorhees

• You decided to pick flowers by the lake and came across some lilies.

• They were so pretty and you couldn't help but think of Jason when picking them.

• Jason's never received flowers before, so he doesn't quite understand the sentiment.

• "These were so pretty. They reminded me of you, so I picked them for you," you say.

• He will accept them reluctantly, but he thinks the action is very sweet.

• Now he brings you flowers that he thinks you'll like as well.

Freddy Krueger

• You're neighbor had a rose garden, and every now and then they'd let you pick flowers from it for decoration.

• One day you couldn't help but notice that your neighbor was growing black baccara roses.

• Something about them felt mysterious and they were so beautiful. They reminded you of Freddy.

• You picked some and gave them to him.

• To be honest, he's not a flower guy.

• "What's this for?"

• "I thought you might like them. thy reminded me of you."

• But nevertheless, he thinks it's sweet. Cheesy, but sweet.

• He can't help but think about how much he loves you ever time he sees them.

Michael Myers

• You were picking flowers when some purple petunias caught your eyes.

• You brought the flowers home and handed one to Michael.

• "Here you go. I picked this for you."

• It's always kind of hard to tell what Michael is thinking.

• He sat there twirling the flower between his fingers for an hour, so you guess he must have liked it.

• He does, by the way. He actually saved it.

• Once it started to wilt, he pressed it so he could save it.

Brahms Heelshire

• Theres a huge garden on the Heelshire residence. There was a vegetable garden and a flower garden.

• You're usually the one that maintains the gardens, but Brahms liked to help.

• While he was watering the vegetable garden, you were pulling weeds out of the flower garden.

• You had been working for a couple of hours and you decide to take a break.

• You picked some daisies and made your way to Brahms.

• "Hey, Brahms. Look what I picked for you," you said.

• You handed them to him and he graciously took them.

• He thinks they're pretty and he really appreciates the gesture.

• He kisses you through his mask.

• "Thank you," he said.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo was mad.

• A group of tourists had broken into the wax museum, and him and Vincent were out taking care of it.

• You hated to see Bo upset, so while he was out you decided to tidy up the house.

• You decided to go outside and pick some flowers.

• You picked a bunch of Sweet Williams. They looked really nice and reminded you of Bo.

• You put them in a vase and put them on a table.

• When Bo got home he was surprised to see the house so clean.

• "You picked flowers?" He asked once he noticed the bouquet.

• "Yeah, they reminded me of you," you said.

• He smiled and kissed your forehead.

• "What would I do without you?"

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent was busy working on new wax figures for shops in the town.

• One of the stores was a flower shop, and he planned to make wax flowers for the window display.

• You decided that you could help by picking flowers for him to use as reference.

• You came across a patch of sunflowers in the woods; they had been thriving in the Louisiana heat.

• You had a feeling that Vincent would love them.

• You brought them back to his workshop where he was working on a new sculpture.

• "I got these for you," you said.

• He was a little shocked by the kind gesture.

• He examined them and then gave you a hug.

[booklyns]

paint of life | brahms.h [the boy]

PART | this is part 1. for pt. 2 [nsfw]: click here, pt. 3 [nsfw]: click here.

WARNING | stockholm syndrome, spying, stalking, horror & chasing elements, mention of murder, non-consensual kiss (kinda?), i think brahms is a warning itself.

RELATIONSHIP | brahms. h/gn. reader

WORD COUNT | approx 5k.

SUMMARY | you're a painter seeking for an inspiration, only to find a grown man living within these walls in the house you illegally trespassed. it's a great inspiration, nonetheless, even if you might be facing your death sooner than expected.

please read the warning before proceeding, minors do not interact. this is merely fiction and just for fun, do not normalise this relationship. reach out if you're in a toxic relationship or any relationship that may be harmful to you.

You really thought this wasn't a good idea.

And your mind was still the same as you stood in front of the God-forsaken mansion with your painting supplies in your grasp. Get an inspiration from the Heelshire's mansion then, they said to you. There's lots of antiques and aesthetic items within those walls despite being abandoned and literally getting no response from the missing Heelsires. Everything was screaming at you to not go inside that mansion.

But you didn't have much choice.

You looked behind with a grimace, finding no cabs or vehicles waiting for you to head back to the city. In other words, you were currently trapped with the cursed mansion until your shitty friends decided to check on you. If you didn't know your friends' personalities, you wouldn't have come here. You knew what they said was for your own good but seriously, here?

"And what inspiration could I even find here?"

You pursed your lips, certain what you're about to do must have been illegal. Trespassing was one thing but staying inside someone's house? You knew you would go to jail if the Heelshires suddenly decided to return back home.

"Fuck it."

Stomping into the mansion, you swung open the creaking door with a shudder, eyes darted back and forth at the clean interior of the place. It was slightly eery with how neat everything was as if there's someone who cleaned up the entire place before your arrival. You shook such a ridiculous thought out of your mind and set down your bags filled with travelling clothes, only bringing along the painting supplies in the additional bag.

"Well, let's hope whatever is in here is not going to maul me into pieces." You mumbled under your breath, genuinely praying there was nothing inside the house.

You took a deep breath and looked around the house, making sure you're indeed alone and finding out the perfect spot for painting. Like a gift and blessing from the God, you eventually found it. An office with an old vinyl records player and a large window where warm sunlight was pouring in. You could see tiny trees poking from afar and the sun was beginning to set, a sign that it was now evening. You smiled to yourself, thinking that perhaps everything wasn't so bad after all and your paranoia was only making everything worse. If everything could go well, you might be able to finish your last piece for your client after all.

"It will be fine." You whispered to yourself.

Though unfortunately for you, a pair of eyes watched your every movement since you first stepped into the mansion. Brahms Heelsire, suffocated in his porcelain mask that had a slight crack, crouched behind the hollow wall and peered through the gap to catch a glimpse of the new, uninvited guest. He observed the way you swiftly and smoothly set up the wooden easel, placing the canvas on it gently. It was the first time in a long while he had seen such a huge easel.

Perhaps Brahms had seen one when he was younger but right now, his childhood was long forgotten — whether it was because he forcibly forced himself to forget or not, only he knew.

You moved back and forth from your open bag, pulling the office chair to the front of the easel and taking a seat in silence. Curious like a cat, Brahms watched the way you stared intently at the blank, white and untainted canvas while spinning the paintbrush in your hands. Your fingers expertly twirled around the brush, brain completely spinning and spitting out steam from how hard you were thinking for an idea, lips puckered and eyebrows furrowed.

Just what were you doing?

Why were you roaming around in his house?

"Life." You mumbled, "Draw something about life. Babies are too common, I don't like the idea of it. It just doesn't click! I need something else, come on. Think of something!"

Brahms flinched when you suddenly smacked your head with your fists in frustration, baffled over how aggressive you were for no reasons. Oh, if only Brahms could understand the reason behind your stress — the deadline, the desire to create a perfect masterpiece and even the urge to actually use the paintbrush and paint! You bit your lips hard and began to pace around the room, head pounding from the lack of caffeine in the morning. You just needed a click and a ding in your mind, that's all. Yet you couldn't get any inspiration from the damn house at all.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Of course, what did you expect anyway?

The house was no miracle or a magic house. You needed to live here for a few days before finding an inspiration for your painting. One thing's for sure, if you ever get out of this place with no inspiration, you will be strangling the crap outta your annoying friends. Putting aside the brush, you stretched your body and walked out of the office, legs bringing you towards the kitchen. You looked for something and that something might have been a coffee machine.

Creak.

You instantly swiveled around at the brief sound of creaking, widened eyes looking at the source of sound — none. Perhaps the house had gotten too old and probably rotting inside, causing the slightest sound as your feet stomped against the floorboards. If only it was that easy to guess what may be causing the noises. Surely nobody would expect someone to be living within the walls, walking and creeping whenever a guest would walk in without announcing their presence. Brahms had always hated those sort of guests, most of them were thieves or random people who wished to find paranormal activities. He would watch and leave them alone most of the time unless situation where things get out of hands.

When that happens, Brahms would remove them.

It’s as easy as that.

Brahms raised the paintbrush above his head as he laid on his creaking bed quietly, eyeing the tip of the brush that was beginning to show its age.

Questions flooded into his mind like the waves of sea, wondering if his missing parents who brutally abandoned him had used this sort of brush before. He wished he could have the opportunity to use it however, considering how he was isolated and hidden behind the walls, Brahms never did spend his time on painting. In fact, he barely had any supplies to do so. Like a child with overwhelming curiosity, Brahms touched the paintbrush as if a single stroke could magically summon out a creature.

“What the hell?"

Hearing the sudden outburst, Brahms flinched and almost knocked his head onto the low ceiling, almost cursing at his taller height. He quickly scampered out of the messy bed, Greta's stolen items were all shredded into pieces out of uncontrollable anger. At the very least, with your presence, Brahms could focus on something else other than Greta — that damn, bloody witch!

Brahms stuck himself to the wall and peered out of the gap once more, finding himself comfortable within these walls just like usual. There you were, screaming at nothing as you paced around the office after having a cup of coffee. You had been there for three days but you had done absolutely nothing on the white canvas. At this point, Brahms was getting bored waiting for something to happen. Perhaps he should have gotten rid of you since the very beginning.

Were you planning to stay in his house now?

It didn't seem like you would finish your painting anytime soon.

"Fine, fine." You took a deep breath, "A missing paintbrush, who cares about that? I need—"

You suddenly felt a shiver running down your spine.

Out of reflex, you touched your chilling nape and glanced at the wall, hitting right on the spot where Brahms was standing. Panicked, he instantly pushed himself deeper into the shadows and held his breath, holding onto the paintbrush tightly to the point it would break into the half. Eventually, you felt the urge to laugh at yourself.

"Damn it." You ran your hand through your messy hair, unable to sleep well in the mansion at all. "Must be my nerves."

Brahms tilted his head to the side, pondering on why you would often speak to yourself. It wasn't bad since your voice would fill up the inside of the house mansion, eliminating the eerie and dreading silence. In fact, Brahms felt less lonely hearing someone's voice near him — someone who wasn't annoying at least.

Alas, while he was swallowed by the shadow, you turned your head away and took a seat on the office chair, his father’s chair. You looked as if you were meant for that fancy seat especially when you slipped on a pair of glasses with silver rims. The round lenses glossed over your dull eyes, bringing in the comfort and focus you needed very much.

When Brahms crouched down in awe and felt his eyes focusing in curiosity, he wasn’t joking about his admiration. You weren’t like his father whenever he did his work in the office, there was just a different air to you as your brushes slid across the canvas smoothly. You knew what you were doing or if that wasn’t the case, then you must have followed the flow instead. The sound of those brushes stroking the canvas filled the serene office and to Brahms, he could even hear his heavy breathing and steady heartbeat very clearly.

You had such a gentle yet determined look at you painted, Brahms had a good feeling about you. The others might be cold corpses now because of their horrible personalities but you— Brahms had a good feeling.

What were you creating?

Why were you that focused?

Couldn’t you give that sort of focus on him instead?

Oh, how lonely Brahms must have been to even have such a thought.

If there's anything that Brahms liked, it would be having someone's eyes on him. Someone who would take a good care of him, someone who would actually care for him. He adored goodnight kiss, hugs too! Brahms liked having someone who was specifically for him — his and only his, nobody else could get in between them. Those eyes of yours, he liked them. Even if the damn glasses were in the way, it only added into your charm.

If your eyes were on him, he would melt.

He liked you.

He now wanted you to be with him as long as you would be willing to look at him with such an attentive gaze. Brahms was a greedy man, he knew that and he wouldn't mind to be one in the first place. He can be a good boy as long as you could remain as his. Was that not enough?

It wasn't enough for Greta but surely it's enough for you?

Ring.

You groaned.

Ring.

You reached out to the vibrating phone on the desk, swiping the green button on the touchscreen and shifting the call into a speaker mode. Walking back to your canvas, you fixed your glasses and hummed in response.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? Well, a report about how you're doing! To be honest, I wasn't really expecting you to listen to our advice since that mansion looks pretty haunted. Like really haunted but you actually went there! So, how did it go?"

You scoffed, "Do I sound good to you right now?"

"Yikes, I assume you've yet to find the inspiration you need but hey, I heard the view there is amazing if you explore around the area. Just take a breather and have a rest, you need it more than you think you need."

"I can't take a break, you know that." You sighed, "This client is important, I need to finish this project as soon as possible before the deadline. I can't lose this client, Robert."

"Up to you, my lovely friend!" Sarcasm dropped out of the phone's speaker, "Just remember to not push yourself too much, you know. Anyway, be careful of murderer or a serial killer there. If you actually went missing, I will really strangle you in hell."

"Seriously?"

"Uh, it's not that I want to spoil whatever mood you're having but there's a pretty horrid story behind the Heelshire family. Lovely old woman and man, don't get me wrong but hey, there's always a hidden story behind a rich family like them. Look, I don't want to tell you the story because you might actually piss your pants, thinking that there's actually a ghost in the house."

"Robert." You exasperated.

"I'm sorry! Sorry! I will shut up. Just give me a call or text me whenever you want to head back. I will get everything ready, cabs or anything you want." Robert cleared his throat awkwardly, "Just be careful since you're alone out there. Okay? See you! Waiting for your good news then."

The line was then cut off before you could say anything, leaving you even more uncomfortable in the middle of the office. You never did believe in ghosts but the creaking noises that you would occasionally hear did freak you out. Were you scared? Truly, you had no idea. You were merely conflicted and confused with what happened in the mansion — where was the Heelshire family? Despite the curiosity gnawing your heart, you weren't a nosy person and since you weren't there to dig into a family history, you only brushed everything off.

Your mind may be clouded from questions but right now, you forcibly made the painting as your main objective. Even when you felt someone's piercing eyes burning hole on the back of your head, you brushed it off and continued your work.

Nothing would happen, you're sure of that.

When night came and the sky was as dark as the abyss, you weren't so sure anymore. Fatigue was beginning to wear you down and your appetite was long gone as soon as you saw the unfinished canvas. It was far from completion and you doubted you could finish it in time especially with the lack of motivation and inspiration. A soft groan escaped out of your agape mouth as you sat down on the bed, eyes growing heavier and heavier as the time passed by.

"Ugh." You placed your glasses on the bedside.

You were unwilling to sleep with how much work was waiting for you to complete but when your body was beginning to betray your mind, you knew it was time to take a step back. Steadying your trembling hands, you quickly crawled under the comfortable sheet and laid still. You no longer wished to think and decided to shut down your brain.

Up and down.

Your chest rose up and down at a slow, tranquil pace which was in contrast with the frown you had on your sleeping face. Deep in slumber, you couldn't even notice the man towering over you by the bed, the porcelain mask concealing the expression he was currently making. Brahms' hand reached out to your neck but refrained himself from brushing his fingers against your skin. Perhaps he should kill you like the other nannies to avoid trouble such as Greta but something was stopping him from doing so.

He lowered his hand subconsciously.

"I will be a good boy."

You snapped your eyes open in shock and quickly sat up, hands gripping onto the blanket in a tight grip while your forehead was covered in sweats. Looking around the room, you saw nobody and were only overwhelmed by the feeling of dread raining down on you. In deep thoughts, you tried reaching out to the bedside but your hand only made contact with the cold furniture. Yet another fear ran down your slouched back.

"...Where is my glasses?"

You were definitely cursed. Nothing made sense.

To hell with the canvas! You're leaving right away.

Hastily, you took your bags without thinking of getting all of your things and bolted out of the empty bedroom. Nothing went through your mind as you tumbled out of the room, all you could think of was escaping the damn place. Something was wrong, horribly wrong and you knew your guts were right. Everything you felt during your stay was proven right when the sound of footsteps thundered across the hallway. The noises bounced all over the walls, you were not able to detect where it came from.

Whether it was a man or a ghost, you did not care.

You just ran.

When the roar of footsteps came closer than you expected, you nervously looked back yet saw nothing. Despite wanting to feel relieved that nothing was chasing after you from behind, you were unable to. You couldn't breathe steadily and evenly, you were gasping for air while panicking. As you sprinted forward, hand reaching out for the entrance door, you suddenly let out a terrified scream and skidded across the floor. You were desperately trying to stop yourself from shooting forward.

A lanky, big man stood in front of you.

His face was hidden away due to the awfully white porcelain mask, the slight crack did not go unnoticed by you. He was breathing heavily, probably because he was trying to chase after you and cut off your escape which he managed to do successfully. Brahms blocked the entrance door with his larger build, giving you nothing but anxiety and fear up to your throat.

But you weren't the type to give up easily.

Even when the bile was rising up to your throat, you bit the inside of your cheeks and swivelled around to run off once again. You slipped but your blunder did not stop you from escaping — the tip of your feet propelled your forward and you stumbled back to the hallway. Brahms chased after you but this time, you could actually sense his overwhelming presence behind you.

You narrowly ducked his outstretched hand and cried for help, swiftly moving across the room while Brahms crashed into some furnitures. That did not stop him, considering his build that resembled a bear. You forced your brain to think and think! Anything would be fine, as long as you could make it out alive right now.

And like a song of hope, your voice rang out.

The door to the backyard.

You bolted to the dining room and crawled under the dining table, getting closer to the door. Just when hope was beginning to swell in your chest, Brahms wasn't dumb. He knew what you're aiming for and instantly took the chair with ease, flinging it across the room. The chair was smashed into splinters against the door, thankfully it didn't hit you in the head.

But you did feel the splinters poking into your flesh.

It was a warning and threat for you to not do anything stupid.

One touch on the door knob and you're dead.

You scampered to the right like a frightened squirrel, meeting the wall that mockingly laughed at you. Legs trembling, heart pounding and head aching, you stuck your sweaty back against the wall. You desperately tried to sink and mould into the wall, hoping that it would make you disappear but of course, that wouldn't work.

With how Brahms was making his way towards you, you had never felt this small and insignificant before.

"I will leave! I will leave! I'm sorry!" You pleaded.

But Brahms did not stop.

He walked and walked.

Until he was an inch away from you, his figure easily towered over you like a hungry, desperate grizzly bear. You couldn't tell what expression he was making and that made the situation even worse as well as horrifying — it was unsettling and all you could look at was his pair of piercing eyes.

"Don't leave."

Brahms' voice was deep and mature — it was sort of bittersweet with a sign of venom in it, there was also a hint of quiver when he spoke those two words. It would have sounded innocent and pleading if it wasn't for his build and menacing look. You swallowed the discomfort in your throat, reeling back when Brahms shifted in his spot and his mask got even closer.

Sensing your panicked, Brahms suddenly took your clammy hand and held it to his cheek, the mask felt incredibly cold beneath your palm. You stared at his calloused hands, eyeing the scratches, old scars and dried blood beneath his fingernails that he couldn't get rid of. Yet another shiver ran down your body as he looked into your eyes, unwavering and intense.

"I will be a good boy, I will. I promise."

Your eyes darted over to the door and you knew you wouldn't make it in time, he had a longer stride compared to you and he could just barrel into you if he wanted to. Despite having the pressure and stress as a painter, you weren't ready to depart from the world yet. Heck, you couldn't even experience romance yet! You needed every chance you got to live, even if it was merely a fishing line.

You needed to know what you got yourself into.

"And," You gulped, "If I leave?"

His grip around your hand tightened.

"You can't."

You knew he was right. There's no way you could escape especially right now. You would only die in the ditch if you did run away foolishly.

"Wha— What's your name?" You nervously smiled.

Brahms' eyes suddenly held a sort of sparkles, "Brahms. Brahms Heelshire." He was a good boy after all. Why would you run away from him?

You wouldn't.

He could finally have someone whose eyes were on him, someone who would only care for him and only him — someone who's his and his only while he shall remain as yours only. Only yours. You will be the one who put value on his head and your image will be the one he can think of as a good memory.

Someone who wouldn't be like Greta.

Someone who wouldn't be like his parents.

Brahms had chosen you to be the reason for his living.

You weren't expecting yourself to be a babysitter.

From being a stressed out painter to a babysitter (a grown man-sitter), you wouldn't even believe it if your future self came to tell you what would happen personally. It was just obnoxious!

Brahms was... something else.

He wouldn't leave you alone and he hated having you out of his sight, perhaps it was because he was afraid of being alone and abandoned once again. Brahms was an extremely clingy man compared to animals or people you had seen before. The first thing you did was to ask him to have a shower, thinking that it would be a good opportunity for you to escape but unfortunately, Brahms ended up dragging you to the bathroom as well.

"Huh?"

You were confused.

He stood in the middle of the bathroom, tilting his head in confusion as well as he waited for you to do something. It wasn't until a minute later that realisation struck your head like a lightning. Brahms was waiting for you to undress and shower him, just like what a babysitter was supposed to do. Your face instantly turned red, unable to think about facing a completely naked man.

You never did see a naked man! Considering your work lifestyle, you were always shutting yourself inside your room and trying to finish up your projects. You didn't even have the time and effort to get to know a person!

So trying to keep your eyes clear from any sight, you suggested to him to remove his clothings on his own. When you told him to undress on his own, Brahms didn't seem too happy about it.

Defeated, you ended undressing him partially, pleading and persuading him to undress the bottom half on his own. Brahms, though unsatisfied, listened to your orders and sunk into the giant bathtub. You washed his hair, grateful that the soapy water managed to cover bits of his lower half and even if it wasn't, you refrained yourself from look down. You swore you would just die from embarrassment and humiliation if you ever looked down.

One thing you learned about Brahms was the fact that he disliked having his mask taken off. You kept that in mind, not wanting to offend nor infuriate Brahms.

Hah! Would it be bad to say that you're now inspired?

With the way you're being chased and feeling your life on the line, how could you not be inspired? That's honestly the only good news you could think of at the moment.

'...So how do I run away?'

You sighed.

'It's not like he's harming me right now but there's no way I can stay here forever. Then what would happen next?'

Furrowing your eyebrows, you kept thinking of your current plan while painting the canvas rather absentmindedly. With your focus wondering somewhere else, you couldn't even notice Brahms trying to gain your attention — it eventually ended up with him suddenly snatching away your brush angrily and tossing it away.

"Hey!"

Brahms scowled and you knew that even with his mask. After all, you had been stuck with him for a few days now with not even a single proper escape plan. Observing him was all you could do during your free time and it could be proven useful in the future, perhaps. You opened your mouth and closed it like a gaping fish, trying to voice out your complaints through facial expression.

"No."

It was a sudden comment coming from him.

"No what, Brahms?" You frowned.

Brahms suddenly pointed at the wall clock and you instantly knew why he was rather upset. It was way past his usual bedtime, it was no wonder Brahms would feel grumpily sleepy by now. Despite feeling sleepy as well, you shook your head, rubbed your eyes tiredly and waved your hands dismissively.

"Can you go to bed on your own?" You sighed, "I am still not satisfied with this. Might need to fix this part, here and here."

Brahms narrowed his eyes at the canvas on the easel, suddenly feeling the urge to break apart the entire thing. If that's what he needed to do to gain your attention and focus, then surely he would do it without any hesitation. Silently in a menacing way, Brahms dragged the canvas.

Before he could do anything, you yelled.

"Hey! Hey! Hands off, I'm sorry! I will go, I will tuck you in."

Tearing his fingers away from your beloved canvas, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the office before anything could happen. You could tell Brahms was satisfied, just by the way he obediently followed you into his designated room.

"Come on, lay down." You patted his bed.

He quietly crawled into his bed and was instantly covered with blanket thanks to your swift hands. You let out a relieved sigh when he made no fuss about it.

"Kiss."

It was becoming a routine and you were no longer hesitating, only getting used to his presence more than ever. Knowing what to do, you gave a quick peck on his chest but one could only be more greedy when everything was going well. Brahms reached out and wrapped his arms around your hip, crashing his porcelain mask against your lips.

"Brah— Brahms—"

You struggled to speak when he only pulled you even closer, leaving you no space to back away nor pull your mouth to voice out complaints. When he did embrace you too hard, you fell onto him and tried to wrestle yourself out of his grasp — Brahms was an absolute monster when it came to physical strength, you learned.

"Brahms!"

He unwilling pulled away to look at you, gawking at the way you glared at him. Something about the way you looked at him was captivating and Brahms, being the intelligent one, had the sudden urge to push your button. He was still a good boy, of course! Just a cheeky and mischievous one too.

"You're happy now? Then sleep, I will be outside."

You huffed and pushed yourself away from him, hands on his broad chest and legs reaching over to the floor. Unfortunately, Brahms wasn't having a wonderful day today. Thinking about you painting once again only made him even more lonely and Brahms never did like the obvious exhaustion in your eyes.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you even tighter and pulled you towards his body. You grew rigid at the warmth that embraced you, thinking about what you had been doing when you should be escaping. Weren't you fooling around with a murderer right now?

"Brahms, I need to work." You pleaded.

He shook his head, "No."

"What do you want?"

"Sleep."

"Then sleep!"

"No, with you."

You groaned, "Brahms. Be a good boy and—"

"I am a good boy. I am."

"But you're—"

You stopped yourself and pursed your lips, there was certainly no point arguing with Brahms. You had no idea whether you would be causing it worse or better if you kept talking.

How did you end up like this, you wondered.

"Fine. Then move aside. You know the bed is small."

As you laid beside him with your eyes forced closed, totally giving up trying to persuade Brahms especially after a long, tiring day, you tried your hardest to ignore the presence beside you. Brahms watched you quietly, he would always do that since the very beginning. The sound of his and yours breathing were mixed together in the same room, and Brahms couldn't be more happy knowing about that.

You were right there with him.

Beside him.

Brahms would do everything to keep you there with him. His fixation towards you wasn't just as simple as a crush whatsoever. He needed you, he needed to know that you wouldn't get tired of him and leave in the middle of the night. Brahms wasn't raised to be alone, he was raised to hide himself and live underneath someone's shadow — in the past, it was his parents'. Now, it was you but it felt different.

Like he wasn't living underneath your shadow.

But with you.

Brahms could show himself whenever he wanted to, he wouldn't have to hide because you wouldn't have any guests in the first place. He wasn't restrained like before, the invisible ropes around him were beginning to loosen.

It was a good thing.

And now, Brahms couldn't help but to want you more.

probably there will be a part 2 (nsfw)?

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Brahms Heelshire (1/5)

Dedicated to @sweetpotato-97! They requested it. I was having a lot of fun developing the reader's character so I'm posting it sooner than anticipated.

Song recommendation : Bullet for my Valentine

Word count ; 4.5k

*Edited:3

Ew. Even in the empty countryside, I wasn’t safe from perverse stares. I wasn’t even wearing revealing clothes, only a crop top and sweatpants so that I could be comfortable on the flight. And yet even the middle-aged taxi driver was staring so much. At everywhere. I wanted to shrink out of existence.

I tried to divert my attention from the creepy driver. I pressed my body as close to the side of the car as possible, leaning my head against the window. Outside, trees flew past in a green blur. I dedicated my time to dizzying myself; my eyes followed an individual tree until it was out of sight and then rinse and repeat.

As tired as I was from the flight, I was too uneasy. Even if it was only one pair, it felt like dozens of eyes were glued to me. Wanting something from me. Wanting my body. Just like before.

It’s why I was here, in the middle of nowhere, in Britain. I was equipped with only a cell phone, clothes, bathroom supplies, a few novels, and a sudoku activity book I picked up in the airport. I was nervous now, but soon I’d be flourishing, improving my mental health and dissolving bad habits.

And in return, I’d be making bank and babysitting a kid.

The forest dispersed as the clunky dirt road expanded. Replacing the Aspens were hedges. We rolled past a wiry metal gate. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to spend anymore time having the man’s prying eyes violating me. The dirt turned to gravel that ground into the car’s tires. The driver made a U-turn, and that’s when I came face to face with a mansion right out of a movie. How intimidating.

We pulled up at the grand yet ancient stair case. I was eager to unlock the door and hop out. My sneakers crunched against the ground and I clutched my purse to my chest. The man opened up the trunk and grabbed my suitcase for me.

“Thanks. How much do I owe?” I tittered, quick to take the bag from him.

“Not a problem, ma’am, the Heelshires tipped ahead of time,” he replied, nodding his head. “Can I help you with your suitcase?”

“Nope, it’s okay. I can handle it.”

“Alright. Have a nice time, ma’am.”

I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding in and ascended to the front door. It creaked when I pushed it open. My heart thudded in my chest; I had to remind myself that I hadn’t gotten the job yet. I’d come entirely with a hope that I’d get to babysit the kid.

“Hello…?” I called out, stepping inside. To the left was a game room, and right was a small living room. I kicked off my shoes and stretched my weary legs. I abandoned my suitcase and wandered down the narrow hallway. I gasped when it opened up to a huge staircase that split off in opposing directions halfway. I noticed a few rooms to the side, but I was transfixed with the majestic family portrait up the flight of steps.

I walked slowly, flinching every time the wood creaked. I was fixated on the life-sized still portrait of three individuals. My eyes were drawn to the small child holding his mother’s hand. When I was standing adjacent to the painting, I zoned into the boy’s expression. Something about it unnerved me; perhaps it was the tilt of his head, the shadowed details of the mouth, the wide eyes. I leaned forward, analyzing it further.

Ah, it was the detailed twinkle in the eye. I hated it. I couldn’t tell if it was micro-camera-like or just way too precise on the painter’s part.

I heard a creak upstairs. So, I followed the noise, tearing my attention away from the painting. After walking up the steps, I noted the burn in my legs; maybe now that I was turning my life around, I could get back into real exercise.

The hallways wound around. This house was an utter maze. But, at least with a kid to show me around sometime, I could make note of the important places. I mean, what’s the point of such a huge house if there’s only three people?

I inspected a slightly open door. Pushing it open, I recognized toys, a tiny bed, and a rocking chair - this must’ve been the kid’s room. It was odd that, for such a rich estate, there wasn’t any modern tech for the kid to mess with like a tablet. Now that I thought of it…

I checked my phone. There wasn’t any signal. I tried to find a WIFI network, but there was only one, and it was password-protected. I’d have to ask when I met the parents.

“Hi there.”

I screamed, bumping into the dresser. I turned to see a man with dirty-blonde hair. He had a thick British accent. God, he scared the hell out of me. Was he the father? He didn’t look anything at all like the man in the portrait…

“Sorry. Believe it or now, I was… I was actually trying not to scare you,” he apologized sincerely, entering the room further.

“N - nah, don’t worry ‘bout it, I was snooping. I thought I heard something, oops.”

“You’re right, I was here.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m so stupid sometimes. Are you Mister Heelshire?” I inquired.

“No. I’m the grocery boy. Man. I own the store actually,” he rambled. “Uh, okay, I’m Malcolm, by the way.”

I waved my hand and strained a polite smile. “Hi.”

“You must be here for the nanny’s job,” he mused.

“Yep. I’m Y/n.” I tucked my phone back into my bag.

He motioned out the door. “I’ve got some groceries to unpack downstairs, if you want to join me? I can give you a tour of exotic locations, such as the pantry and the bread bin. Does that interest you?”

I chuckled. “That sounds great. Sure.”

I trailed behind him, but he eagerly stood by my side instead. “You aren’t from the UK, yeah?”

“Mhm, from (Y/c).”

We arrived in the kitchen. It was to the right of the foyer. I made a mental note of that. Hopefully I was good enough to get the job. I helped Malcolm unload the basket. A comfortable silence fell over us. I figured that the produce went in the kitchen, the frozen food went in the freezer, and so on.

“The bread bin,” he introduced.

It was a perfect bread-shaped box. “Huh. Simplistic, but genius,” I stated, observing as he placed the said bread inside. He faced me and a mischievous yet charming grin stretched across his face. “I’ve got a touch of the gift, you know.”

“The gift?” I repeated, tilting my head.

He stretched out his hand and I mirrored it, placing mine onto his reluctantly. “Prognosticator. Clairvoyant. Whatever you like to call it,” he began, holding my hand face up. “I had a grandmother that read tea-leaves. My mother read palms, so…”

“Alright. So what do you read?” I asked, noticing that my shoulders tensed.

“Me?”

“Ya.”

“Also hands.”

“No kidding. Damn.”

“We don’t get to choose our gifts, Miss Y/n,” he joked. “So, if you allow me…”

“Go ahead, my dude.”

“I’m a professional, trust me.” He inspected my hand, tracing the lines.

“Oh, my god.”

“I see that you’re a writer, from (Y/t), (Y/c). It looks like you’ve come here to be inspired by the English countryside. To get away from the hustle and bustle of your life in (Y/c).”

I laughed. “Nope. Way off.”

“Close?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Okay. One more try.” He paused, wracking his brain for more stereotypes. “Ah. Ah, okay. I clearly misread the lines.” Still holding my hand, he went on, "I see a dark past. You’re on the run. You’re looking for a change. That’s what it looks like.”

I gently pulled my hand away, uncomfortable. “Sorry to break it to you, Malcolm, but no.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m afraid that was my best attempt at flirting. Believe it or not, I’m actually charming considering 'charming' in this country.”

I grinned. “It’s not like I’m any better. I only drop pick-up lines when I’m tipsy.”

“Ah, so you know how to party.”

“Well, maybe, but I’m out here to sober up and get my life together, so I’ll have to decline any parties,” I explained. “So, what���s the family like?”

He gulped. How suspicious. “Well, they’re nice, you know. They’re, uh, they’re very generous. As good as people as you’ll ever hope to meet.”

“And the kid?”

“Brahms?”

“Brahms.”

“He is, well, I’m not sure quite how to explain it, but - Missus Heelshire!”

I glanced over my shoulder and came face to face with two elders. There was a woman and a man who somewhat resembled the people in the portrait. Were they the grandparents?

I stuck out my hand tensely, and the woman seemed ecstatic.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Where are your things?”

~~~

“Brahms is very excited to meet you, Miss Y/n,” Missus Heelshire stated. For some reason, it unnerved me. Perhaps the kid was shy. “He’s never met (a/n) (Y/c) before.”

I grinned. “I’m very excited to meet him, too. I love children.” That may or may not have been the truth. But I needed the job.

We were at the front, and my suitcase was there, but my sneakers were gone. “I left my shoes here, I swear it,” I exclaimed, crouching to search.

The man, who’d been completely silent the entire time, spoke up from behind his wife. “They’ll turn up. It’s Brahms. He can be playful. I assume you brought other shoes?”

“Uh, yeah.” Actually, only my high heels, because I couldn’t help but think I’d go out to party at least once. But, no, I’d try my best not to fall into old habits.

“Well then, let’s meet Brahms,” Missus Heelshire exclaimed. “We’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

They went into the living room to the right. The couple crouched in front of a turned away chair. Had Brahms been there the whole time?

“Her name is Miss Y/n. We want you to be on your very best behavior,” she instructed. “Daddy?”

Mister Heelshire stood straight and smiled to me. “Miss Y/n, allow me to introduce you to our son, Brahms.” He motioned me over.

I stepped forward, ready to be friendly and cheerful. But, instead, I came face to face with a… doll? I almost laughed, but the couple seemed completely serious, so I was left speechless, with an awkward smile stretching across my face.

Thank god for Malcolm, who came in for the save. “So you’ve met Brahms then? How are you doing, Brahms?” He leaned in front of the doll, sending me a glance. “Now, you take it easy on Miss Y/n. She’s traveled a long way just to meet you.”

“Ah! I, uh, spaced out, haha, hi Brahms. Great to meet ya, kiddo,” I agreed, reaching out to grasp the doll’s hand on instinct. The ‘parents’ eased up instantly.

“I’ll be off then. The bill is on the table,” Malcolm announced, waving.

I waved back, secretly wishing he wouldn’t leave me with these people. “Thank you, Malcolm,” Mister Heelshire added.

“Daddy, will you please take Miss Y/n’s things up to her room, please?” Missus Heelshire requested. The man grabbed my suitcase while she hooked her arm around mine. “Miss Yn, we might as well get started. I have a lot to show you. You’ll be all alone out here.”

“No problemo. Happy to be of service.”

“We’ve had a number of potential nannies come through already. Brahms rejected them all.” I bit my tongue to keep myself from sassing. I’d pretty much be living here for free if I got the job; there’s not even a child to babysit. “Though, they weren’t nearly as young or as pretty as you.

“You’ll wake him at seven a.m. each morning and you will dress him,” she began as we entered the child bedroom from earlier. She started fussing around with the blanket and then the dresser after setting down the doll. “Here are his clothes.”

“S - so I should dress him, right, okay.” I took the small articles of clothing and approached the doll. I knelt down in front of him and fiddled with the shirt.

“No, wake him up first,” she snapped. “There’s no better way to learn than by doing.”

I cleared my throat. “Wake up, Brahms.” My voice cracked from pressure. I lifted him up gently.

“He is not a baby, Miss Y/n. You needn’t be afraid of hurting him.” She pushed me aside, and I couldn’t help but feel sad. I mean, I wasn’t capable of taking care of a doll, how silly was that?

“Now, let’s show Miss Y/n how we get you dressed,” she cooed, attention fully on the doll. ‘I’d let her do it herself, but I’m afraid we’d be here all afternoon.”

Ouch. Insults from a crazy woman really shouldn’t sting as much as they just did.

~~~

“Brahms has three hour lessons five days a week, and I like to start by reading some poetry. Do you know any, Miss Y/n?”

Well, if my childcare was inadequate, at least I had a sense of humor, right? “I know all the drinking chants from when I was in the frat. I’d recite them, but it’s for adult ears only,” I chuckled.

She didn’t seem pleased. “Well, it does’t have to be poetry, of course. Any of these books will do, but you must read in a loud, clear voice.”

I nodded obediently. “Yeah, okay.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Yeah, okay!” I repeated.

“Excellent. Next is music appreciation,” she continued, drawing my attention to a phonograph. She sat the doll down in a chair. “Brahms, you must sit up straight, like a good little boy.”

She set the needle on the record, humming to herself. “Music, Miss Y/n. I don’t know how Brahms would go without it.” The track was terribly loud and I almost needed to cover my ears, but I strained a smile. “He likes it louder than me, but it gives him so much joy I don’t dare take it away from him.”

~~~

‘I know how this must look to you, Miss Y/n. And to be completely honest, I’m not sure how it all came to this. Little by little and then all at once, I suppose. What I’m trying to say, is that whatever it might look like on the outside, our son is here. He’s very much with us.’

Yeah. Because there was a logical reason to be babysitting a doll. How exhausting was it to take care of a doll that it required a completely vacation day from it? I pitied the couple, there must’ve bene some untreated grief that led to mental illness.

And yet, the way Mister Heelshire spoke - he spoke with such seriousness and conviction that my head was clouded with doubt.

I was leaning against the outside of the bedroom door. I was waiting for the final verdict. To be honest, I automatically assumed that I had gotten the job, since the woman had shown me all the rituals I had to go through.

They wanted a word ‘alone’ with Brahms. A doll.

I jumped when the door opened, and I stood vigilantly. For some reason, the parents seemed regretful. “He wants you, Miss Y/n. He’s chosen you if you’ll have him.”

I bit my lip. As crazy as the whole situation was, it gave me the ability to be a total free loader. I could work on myself here. I was safe here. “Of course I will.”

Missus Heelshire smiled meekly and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” she whispered, but as quick as she wrapped her arms around me, she’d pulled away.

I blinked, ridden with anxiety of the unknown. But, I grinned at her. “I - I can help you guys with the suitcases?”

“I already loaded them into the taxi. You go ahead and get to know Brahms and we’ll be off,” Mister Heelshire insisted.

“O - okay! That works fine. Have a nice trip you two,” I winked and entered the bedroom, lifting up the doll.

When I turned around, they’d evacuated immediately. I gulped, standing there for a moment, hugging the doll to my chest. I’d always been a fan of dolls and stuffed animals. As fragile as the porcelain doll was, it would be nice to cuddle at night. Back home, my bed had several dolls on the bed to sleep with on the lonely - usually lonely - nights when there wasn’t a companion in my bed.

“Welp, Brahms, looks like it’s just you and me now. Man, if I knew I was babysitting a doll, I would’ve signed up sooner.” I bit my lip. “Welp, might as well get comfortable - wait, goddammit, I forgot to ask about the WIFI! Wah!”

I exited the room and raced down the stairs in hopes of catching them before they left. Alas, by the time I made it to the front door and swung it open, there was no car in sight. They got the hell out of dodge fast.

“Welp, that sucks. I mean, it’ll only be a month or so, I can just have an internet purge. And Ryleigh knows the phone number for this place,” I spoke to myself. “Oh - I’ll ask Malcolm next time he drops by.”

I entered the library, my feet padding against the floor much louder now that I knew the house was empty. “Well, Mister Brahms, if you like music so much, I’ll put some on. I should probably purge the house of any temptations while I’m lively.”

I set the doll down on the chair and fumbled with the phonograph. I couldn’t say I’d used one before, but it seemed simple. I went through the various records, sighing when I realized it was all classical music. I succumbed to the CD on the phonograph and started it up.

I sent the doll one last glance before making my way to the kitchen. Okay, things would be fine. Things would be good. Assuming I don’t go into a depressive slump tonight, I could set a schedule for tomorrow. While here, my goal was to start getting my life together. To be stronger and healthier. To be… happy.

And that started with purging myself of alcohol. Detoxifying my livers and body in general of unhealthy substances. I grabbed a trash bag and started searching the cupboards. As bad as I felt for throwing out their expensive wines, I’m sure they could replace them. I just couldn’t deal with the temptation, knowing that alcohol was within reach. Quality wine, at that.

I poured the wine down the sink and tossed the various bottles into the trash. God, it was hard. Each time I saw another bottle empty, I wanted so badly to fall into temptation and drink the rest. However, I completed the task. I got rid of the alcohol.

I tied up the bag and put it next to the trash bin. My heart ached, but I felt good. I did a good thing. Good job, me. And because I was feeling good, why not settle down with a nice book for the evening? Reading was a good hobby to acquire.

I went back to the study, even if it was too large to call that. I scoured the shelves, surprised when I found actual novels and not just ancient works of fiction from the eighteenth century. There were works of fantasy, horror, and a hell of a lot of poetry. I mean, poetry was nice. I made a selection of a sci-fi book and a poetry book. If I got into meditation, poetry would be nice for the soul.

I collapsed on the couch and grabbed the doll. Cuddling into it, I allowed myself to enter a fantasy world for the rest of the afternoon.

~~~

The strobe lights obscured my vision as I pushed myself through the hoard of fellow drunk and faded young adults. I bumped shoulders with grinding women, something I was doing not too long ago until I realized who was the receiver; Jason.

My immediate reaction was to clutch the drink to my chest, pushing him away. Even when I was drunk, I had enough sense to blow up at him. Earlier that day, he tried to break into my apartment by using the fire escape. I had to call the cops on him. He was arrested. How was he free already?

“I just want to talk,” he’d insisted. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

I was scared. And dead drunk. I was vulnerable and terrified. I knew he was following me. I took another swig as I got to the back door. Tears were clouding my vision as I stumbled past the bouncer. I thought to ask for help, but in my sloven state, all I wanted was to leave. Escape. Run away.

Wasn’t that the reason anyone got drunk? To escape something? It was the reason I went out clubbing every night, at least. I was destroying myself and I was fully aware of it.

And now, he was too. I hated my life. I hated him. I hated my life and I hated him, so now I hated me. Why was he following me? Why was my brain feeling so fuzzy? I think I was moving, but it was hard to tell.

I want some beer… I took another swig. I felt so tired. After I downed the entire bottle, I let it crash to the ground. I tried my hardest to focus on the sidewalk underneath me. I leaned closer to the passing buildings.

“Y/n, baby, calm down,” Jason shouted from behind me.

I tried to run, but I was so tired. I ended up tripping over my feet and fell to the ground. I pushed myself up weakly.

“Baby, come on, we should go home now,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Tears landed on my scratched-up hands. “N - no,” I slurred,” you fucking - fuck cheater. Creep. Assho - …”

I was lifted back up to my feet. I was forced to lean my body against his. He pressed me so tightly to him. Go away. Leave me alone. Go away. Help. Somebody help. Anybody.

He was kissing my neck. So gently. I hated him. But I felt so… serene. “Come on, baby, let’s go home, huh?”

A silent scream tore at my throat. Everything was fading.

I shot up. Realizing I was screaming in reality. Tears were racing down my cheeks. I was here. At the Heelshire’s. In Britain. Away from him. It was okay, it was okay, it was okay. Calm down.

I clutched the doll to my chest, calming myself by staring into the doll’s porcelain expression. “Everything’s okay… Oh, my god… What time is it?” I croaked, finally alert. My heart was still thudding in my chest, but I knew where I was.

I glanced out the windows. It was pitch black outside. I saw the grandfather clock wedged between some of the bookshelves; four-nineteen a.m. It must’ve been the jet lag.

I picked up the book on the floor, knocked off my lap from the nightmare. I set it on the table. I held the doll to my chest. This is why I preferred dolls over stuffed animals - it felt like a good, safe friend was hugging you.

“Welp, Brahms, first night in and I had a nightmare about that creep. You’re right, I should definitely get a shower and wash away my trauma, that’s definitely a healthy coping mechanism right now,” I rambled as I dragged my feet up to my room. “About as healthy as I’m talking to an inanimate object like you’re my therapist.”

I entered my room and sat Brahms up to be on my bed. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m breaking your so-called rules little bud. You’re a doll, why would you? A nice, friendly doll…”

I went to my suitcase and started unpacking. I was too lazy truly make it my abode that early in the morning, so I took out my soft new pair of pajamas and bathroom supplies. I headed into the bathroom, noting that it was a bit more decrepit than the rest of the house. There were some cracks in the tiles and wallpaper, and the lights were dim.

I undressed while waiting for the water to heat up. I organized the restroom sufficiently and then hopped in. The stream of warm water felt nice, especially after such a long trip. After such a long… year.

I ran my hands through my silky, moist hair, scrubbing and washing it with depth. Nobody’s been seeing me for at least a week other than Malcolm, but I wanted to feel nice and pretty. It’d been a while since I washed up for myself and not the eyes of an attractive stranger.

Man, it was incredible. I felt like this wasn’t a good thing I was doing, taking advantage of potentially mentally ill old people. However, they made the decision to do this. If anything, the old man seemed to be enabling the woman, who was a grieving mother or something. So knowing that cleared my conscious.

I wasn’t sure how long I was in the shower, but the water started getting cold, so I turned it off and got out. I wrapped the towel around my body. I was too lazy to blow dry it, so, using another towel, I spent a minute or so rubbing it dry.

Afterwards, I raised my head up. The mirror had defogged, and I felt self-conscious. Like I was being watched, even though it was my own reflection. I leaned closer, inspecting the ugly details of my face that I usually covered with make-up. The darkness under my eyes. The acne between my nostril and cheek. The pudginess of my face.

I was about to get sucked into a world of insecurity, so I stepped away from the mirror and wiped my eyes. No, this isn’t what was supposed to happen now. I was in a safe, peaceful environment where I could be by myself and learn a bit of self-love.

I quickly changed into my pajamas and did my night-time routine. I’d already slept a full night, so hell, maybe I could get a few hours of rest and then wake up. Maybe I could go for a jog for the first time in forever.

I returned to my room and collapse on the bed. “Well, Brahmsy, nap time, I guess. You must be tired from seeing me go insane so much during the first night, huh?” I mumbled to myself, cuddling the doll to my chest.

[soupiiiie]

Wanting - Brahms x gn! reader

Genre: hurt / comfort / fluff / angst

Pronouns: they / them

Words: 1.5k

Requested by @riverxxxo

Warnings: self harm (punching legs), wound, blood, mentions words cut and stab

It was a muggy day at the Heelshire Mansion, the wind was blowing rapidly against the windows, leaves being thrown about, and rain lightly pittering on the roof. There was said to be a big storm coming that would last for a few days. Y/n and Brahms were sitting in the parlor, watching an old movie on tape on the only t.v. in the whole house, the crackly audio being the only sound coming from within the house. Brahms had agreed that the rules could be bent today for them to watch a few movies and read together. They both had a mutual infatuation with each other but were both too shy to say so. Brahms wanted them to stay forever, and believed that they were going to, no matter what. Y/n knew that they couldn’t leave him, they had grown to love the mysterious man in the walls and hadn’t wanted to leave anyways. There was nothing for them outside of the house, this was where they felt safe.

After the movie, the pair stood up and began heading to the upstairs hall for bedtime. Breathing shakily, y/n decided that they were going to make a move, they were going to initiate the hopeful relationship. Praying that Brahms felt the same towards them, they were tired of waiting for him to make the first move. As they got to the hall, they gently grabbed Brahms’ arm to stop him. He turned around with a slight head tilt, confused as to why he was halted. They looked up at him and stepped closer, gently caressing the side of his masked face and leaned in to kiss the cold porcelain lips of the mask. Brahms' hands gently grabbed their waist, wanting them to be closer. Y/n’s hands held his face as they rested their forehead against his, breathing in each other's scent. Slowly creeping their hands around the back of his head to the string holding the mask onto his face, they lifted it over his head and began to slip the mask off of him. Brahms quickly jolted back, grabbing y/n’s wrist with his right hand, a small whimper coming from them, and holding the mask to his face with the other. “Why!?” his voice boomed from his chest. He was furious, thinking that he could trust that they understood that he was insecure about his scars that he tries so hard to forget about.

“I-I’m sorry.. Please let g-go Brahms.” Y/n was shaking, knowing how bad he can be when he’s angry, they didn’t want to anger him anymore than he already was. With one swift motion, Brahms let go and shoved past y/n, walking heavily into his room and into the walls where he went quiet. Y/n slowly stood from the floor and noticed the blood seeping through their shirt where a small statuette had stabbed them when they fell. Holding their side, they ran to their room and quickly locked both the closet and main door in case Brahms came out. They went to the bathroom and began treating their wound, not realizing that they had been crying this whole time. Tears ran relentlessly down their face as they realized the weight of what they had done. All the trust that had built up between the two of them had been ripped away in an instant.

Brahms had run off to his loft with haste, throwing the mask onto his bed, he felt all of the anger he had, burn up into sadness and regret. The look on y/n’s face when he spoke was enough to make him drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness but he was too caught up in the moment to notice. He felt betrayed by them, he had been too afraid to take off the mask and not at all ready in the slightest, and they thought that they could rush it and do it themselves? He was confused, sad, angry, but slightly relieved. Was that their way to tell him that they loved him like he loved them. He hoped that once he calmed down and understood what he was feeling, they would still love him.

A small sob ripped him from his thoughts, he had calmed down and was now only feeling bad for running away and yelling at y/n. He silently made his way to y/n’s room and peered through the wall to see them on their bed with their head in hands sobbing. Brahms noticed a red patch at their side and wondered what it was. Had they been bleeding? How? His thoughts were interrupted yet again when they lifted up their shirt to reveal the wound that was now caked with dried blood and needed to be bandaged. He watched as they cleaned it off with peroxide and placed a big bandage over it, wrapping it around themselves to secure it. He crept into the hall only to see a small statue with blood on one side, this was where they fell. Brahms’ head buzzed with the fact that he hurt them, he made them bleed. The thought of it made him sick, he loved them, how could he hurt someone he loves. He made his way back to his loft, crying silently at the thought of y/n crying because of him.

It had been a few days, the wound on y/n’s side had gotten smaller and been healing. They were now cleaning Brahms' childhood bedroom when they heard whimpers coming from below them. Worried, they sat still and waited to hear it again before reacting. Upon hearing it a second time, they crawled into the door in the closet they knew led to Brahms loft room. It was time they spoke to him, they needed to talk about what happened. Y/n didn't want anything to change between them, they didn’t want Brahms to avoid or ignore them. They cherished their relationship and wanted to apologize for what they did.

After walking through the walls for about 10 minutes, they found Brahms room, the whimpering had gotten louder and they knew that he wasn’t doing well. They stood in the doorway, grunts and whimpers could be heard feet in front of them. Y/n stepped forward and saw Brahms hunched over and repeatedly punching himself in the thighs. From the force he was putting into the punches, there had to be bruises forming. Y/n didn’t know it but he had been doing this since he saw them bleeding. They slowly walked towards him, careful not to make noise to scare him. He saw their sock clad feet and sat up straight but didn’t look them in the eye. “Brahms… w-what’s wrong?” They spoke softly. Brahms sniffed and looked up at them slowly, his face was rid of the mask giving y/n a perfect view of his scar littered mug. They saw all the hurt and raw emotion in his eyes, showing that he was deeply hurt and sorry for what he did. Although y/n didn’t see it as anything terrible, just a cut, Brahms felt like the worst person in the world. He hurt the one person who’d be with him forever.

“I hurt you. So I hurt myself. Fair.” Brahms' voice was a mixture of a childs and a mans. He was trying his best not to break down right there in front of them.

“Hey, it’s okay, please don’t hurt yourself,” They took a seat next to him and slowly rubbed his back, “I’m okay, it was only a cut, you didn’t mean to do it.” Y/n used a soft voice that they used when saying goodnight to Brahms, he found comfort in this and took a deep breath. Leaning into their touch, he turned towards them and leaned for a hug. Y/n accepted this and wrapped their arms around his trembling frame. They squeezed him tightly, wanting him to know that they forgive him. Brahms buried his face into y/n’s neck, breathing in the calming smell of them. They were his home, they were where he felt safest. Y/n felt the same, they wanted to be in Brahms’ arms forever.

After what felt like forever of savoring the moment, the two parted but stayed close. Staring at each other with what could only be described as love. Y/n grasped Brahms’ face, he melted into their hands and slowly leaned down towards them. They met in the middle, lips gently grazing one anothers. All of the pent up emotion brewing between the two had been released. They clumsily grasped at one another, Brahms’ hands finding themselves at y/n waist and neck, pulling them close. Y/n’s hands holding Brahms’ face as close as they can. They were gripping each other as if their life depended on it. With heavy breaths, they pulled away, resting foreheads to one another, basking in the moment for as long as they could.

“I love you.” Brahms had whispers under his breath, needing with every bone in his body for them to say it back.

“I love you too.” Y/n hushed back, wrapping their arms around the relived and blissful Brahms, holding him tight.

That night, for the first and certainly not the last time, Brahms fell asleep happy, utterly and truly happy. Holding one another, they slept soundly in the walls of the Heelshire Mansion, not to be bothered.

[a-nonbody]

"Hold me tight and dont let go"

Request: desiree610 How about some sfw Cuddle time with Brahms Heelshire? ☺️

Characters: Brahms Heelshire x reader (y/n)

Length: 1.211

Rating: SFW/ Fluff

stressed reader, slight anxiety, cuddle times with Brahms, mostly fluff, Brahms being somewhat clingy, mention of Brahm being a brat and being angry, comforting in the end

This is my first Fanfic in years, so please don´t mind the few mistakes I made in here (lol) I also may have gotten carried away and that's why it took longer than intended... o-o

Not beta-read! (It will be edited again later on)

The night was terrible, and the morning did not look any better. On their way home, (y/n) thought about all the stress they have been through the last few weeks of nonstop working. They are a nurse and accidents seem to happen every minute nowadays. From simple bruises, broken arms and legs, and one too many fatal accidents that took a toll on (y/n). Everything has happened this week.

After a long walk, since someone has decided that cars are no good, (y/n) made it home. It was an early morning, too early. It was cold the sun slowly comes back up after a long night. The sky was beautiful, and y/n took a small break to just stare at it. Letting their mind wander, just standing outside and calming down. Having forgotten the fact that someone at home was waiting and being very much impatient.

Just a few more minutes of walk time and (y/n) stood in front of the giant house that the Heelshire residence was. Too big for its own good, was the first thought that came to them the first time they saw the residence. When they accepted the job as Brahms nanny their whole life changed. That all was a long time ago, Brahms came out of the walls, and now they are a couple for a few months. It took (y/n) a lot of convincing and promising to get out of the house again. After Brahms's parents have "disappeared" or at least that is what Brahms wanted to believe, very much not agreeing with the fact that his parents have killed themselves. (Y/N) only came out of the house after telling Brahms how important their job is to them. Still not very pleased with it, he agreed to let them leave, but not even (y/n) thought about or remembered how stressful their job could be from time to time.

They opened the front door carefully, trying not to make too much sound since it was so early in the morning and Brahms probably being asleep. At least that is what (y/n) has hoped. This false hope was quickly pushed away when they hear walking come from inside the house. A big sigh escaped (y/n) lips knowing what is about to happen. Brahms hated it when they had to do nightshifts, especially since their night routine of him being put to bed, couldn´t happen. He complained about it almost every time. It was hard for (y/n), knowing that they would hear about it again. Hearing how hard it was for him to be left alone, his routine being ruined and him not being able to contact them and not knowing if they would come back or not. Brahms was very clingy and his parents now being gone did not make it any better. But (y/n) was tired, exhausted, and just did not want to hear the same complaints over and over again. They were ready to tell him off and tell him how they feel about this whole situation.

But today the complaining never came. As soon as y/n turned around to look at him, his face softened. He saw the exhaustion in their eyes, and he did not want to make it worse. "Brahms, I know I am late again, and I am sorry-", (y/n) began but was interrupted by the taller man coming closer and opening his arms.

"Come here", he said in his actual voice, and not the child one. It took (y/n) a while to process what has just happened.

It was not uncommon for Brahms to be clingy and want hugs and cuddles, but him not being mad at you and just accepting the fact they were late? It surprised (y/n) but they gave in a second later. Falling into his arms with their face pressed into his chest. Both of them just stood there, in the middle of the hall, for at least a few seconds before deciding to move.

On their way to (y/n)s room Brahms did not take his eyes off his lover. He noticed that they were thinking about something and were trying to not look at him. He was worried that he had done something wrong, even though he knew that most of the stress probably came from their work, the thought of again upsetting (y/n) was locked in his brain. Before he could even say something they had made it to their room. (Y/N) moved past Brahms, flopping down face-first into the newly made bed letting out a big sigh of relief. They stayed like this as Brahms stayed near the bed just staring at his lover in awe and confusion.

Confusion since he did not know what to do. Is he allowed to come close to you or should he just leave you be? He does want to hold them close since they did not have time to cuddle the last few days but (y/n) is also quite stressed out and probably needs some alone time to calm down.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard sobbing coming from the bed. The sobs were quiet but still painful to hear. Panik started to come up in Brahms now even more scared and clueless about what to do.

"(Y/N)?" he spoke softly not wanting to harm his lover in any way, by maybe sounding angry, confused, or anxious. He was at a loss of how to proceed.

Only a small sob came out of the pillows and blankets: " I hate it". But that did not help him out. Did they hate him? Did they hate the situation they were in? That they have to be stuck in the house and were not able to leave it at any given moment, since he was there to stop them. And he was the one that was mad at them for wanting freedom?

The silence in the room was painful. Filled with anxiety and panic by both ends.

But if they hated him so much, why would they have come back to the residence? Brahms got it together and moved closer to the bed, looking down. (Y/N)s face was still hidden in the pillows. He went over to the other side of the bed and laid down. Moving closer to (y/n), he slowly grabbed their body and moved their back into his chest. His masked face was softly pressed into their hair.

There he waited for any complaining or movement that would show him if he did the wrong thing or that he should stop. But nothing like that happened.

The only thing that did happen was (y/n) turning around to lay in his arms. A huff escaped their lips before they pressed their head into Brahms's chest.

"Can we... not talk about anything right now, please. Just laying here is perfectly fine", their voice came out, not louder than a whisper. A hum of agreement came out of the taller man's mouth before he gave into the loving hug smiling under the mask.

"You're going to be fine. I will stay with you right here and listen to you when you want to talk about it", he whispered into their ear before they both slowly fell into a deep and calming slumber in each other's arms.

~mirkai

[loopy-froots]

First Date

Brahms Heelshire x fem!Reader

Author: @loopy-froots

Word Count: 1449

Request by @leahromanof : Hi there I’d like to give you an idea to consider writing about. This of course includes Brahms Heelshire💕 Could Brahms and the female reader have a date but since he’s not able to go out, the reader sets it all up at home and Brahms or the female reader have ever been on a date. And then after the date they make their way upstairs for some sweet midnight memories if you know what I mean😉😏😬

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slasher x reader, swearing, smut, virgins (fem and masc), oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, etc.

Author’s Note: Heyo! I’m so happy to be writing my very first request!! I hope you like it as much as I do! :3

~~~

*2nd Person POV*

“Y/n, dear…” Your beloved Brahms starts.

“Yes?” You answer quizzically. He had a confusing look on his face, like he wanted to run away but instead he chose to stay.

“Would you go out with me?” His question takes you by surprise. Admittedly, you’d been waiting for something like this to happen. You were quite fond of the boy that watched you from the walls, but you’d never want to ruin the relationship you two had already been forming. You thought for sure he was only thinking of you as a nanny, and not something else entirely.

“You… want to go on a date?” You quickly ask before his skittish self changes his mind. Instead of answering, he simply shakes his head in agreement.

“I’d love to, Brahmsy! Where do you want to go?” You ask excitedly, but this time Brahms gains a look of disapproval.

“Here…” He demands with a softness to his tone.

“Oh, right! Sure, we can have it here! Want to have dinner and everything?” You suggest, and he nods happily. That night, you decide to cook him his favorite meal and dessert. The two of you sit at the dining room table and converse in ways you’d never done before.

“So, since when did you want to do something like this?” You question timidly, not fully expecting him to answer.

“Since you came here…” He states nonchalantly. It catches you off guard, so you freeze up.

“R-really?” You blush.

“Mm hm,” He reassures. “You’ve been on my mind since the day you walked inside.”

“That’s… really sweet…” You admit mostly to yourself. You’d never expect something like this from Brahms. As fond of him as you were, he did have some flaws. He could be rather selfish at times, but apparently he could be thoughtful, too.

“Why did you agree?” He snaps you out of your thoughts.

“To the date?” You ask, and he nods his head. “Well, I guess I just… you mean a lot to me so… I just thought…”

“You like me too…?” Brahms slightly smirks at your flustered state.

“Yes,” You agree.

“Good, I’m glad…” He shares. “This is my first date, by the way…”

“Oh, really? Um, well… me too, actually…” You confess.

“Really?!” He asks, flabbergasted.

“Yes! Sorry if I’m too nervous…!” You shyly apologize.

“A pretty girl like you has never been on a date…? And you chose me to be your first one…?” Brahms thinks out loud.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You question.

“I’m not exactly the most qualified…” He looks away insecurely.

“Nonsense! You’re handsome, thoughtful, and hell, you had the courage to ask me out in the first place!” You compliment him, causing him to flush up his cheeks again.

“You’re too kind, Y/n… If it’s alright with you… I’d love to… I mean, only if you want… I want to show you how much you mean to me…” Brahms suggests, but you get confused at first.

“Oh? How so?” You wonder.

“Follow me,” He gets up and takes your hand, leading you around the house and upstairs to his bedroom. You get his idea and begin to panic.

“U-um, Brahms…?” You halt for a second.

“Yes, love?” He looks back at you with such sweetness in his eyes.

“I… I’m nervous… this is… I’ve never done this before…” You share your concerns, but he shakes his head reassuringly.

“Me too, Y/n, but I promise to be gentle.” He pledges.

“Okay,” You agree, and he takes you into his room. Brahms leads you to his bed and sits you down.

“Now, I want you to follow my lead, okay? Follow all my instructions,” He demands, and you agree to do so.

“Good girl,” He praises, and a wonderful tingly feeling reaches your center. Brahms begins to strip off his clothing items, and suggests you do the same. Your hands tremble, but you do as he says. Once the two of you are bare, he leans down and hovers over you.

“Brahms…” You whine.

“Hm?” He responds.

“Please be gentle…” You request, causing a chilling chuckle from him.

“I will,” He kisses your forehead, then down to your cheek. Continuing around your jawline and neck, you can’t help the slight groan escaping from your lips. He’s teasing you, and you’re becoming impatient. Instead of asking again, you decide to reach your hands up and grab his face. You pull him into you to kiss him properly.

The kiss is slow and soft at first, but quickly turns ravenous. The weeks of sexual tension and unrequited feelings being built up finally burst. Brahms is quick to bite your lip, aggressively requesting access to your insides. You allow him to open your mouth, and instantly he’s on you.

Your two tongues fight for dominance, but he’s quick to overpowered you. You can tell he likes to be in control, but you don’t mind too much. Minutes go by as the two of you explore each others’ mouths, but then you have to break from each other to catch your breaths.

“Fuck, Y/n…” Brahms breathlessly whispers to you.

“I know,” You agree. He then goes for your neck again, and begins to nip at certain spots that get more of a reaction out of you.

“Mm!” You moan and grip onto his shoulders. He may have no experience, but he’s definitely a quick learner. You wonder how you’ll be able to keep up.

“Can I go lower?” He suddenly asks, but you immediately agree. He trails kisses down your chest, your stomach, and hips until he’s reached your center. He spreads your legs further and licks a slow stripe up your folds.

“Oh, Brahmsy!” The sensation fills you with joy, and he begins to eat you out like a starved man. Quickly, you near your climax, and Brahms senses this. Instead of letting you finish, though, he selfishly stops.

“N-no!” You whine in frustration.

“Not yet, dear… We must cum together…” He suggests, making your heart flutter.

“Alright,” You agree and settle down into the bed again.

“Ready?” Brahms lines himself up at your entrance and asks for consent one last time.

“Yes,” You reassure him. With that, he slowly pushes his head into you. The unfamiliar stretch stings a little at first, but quickly melts into a comforting feeling of being filled.

“Oh, Y/n… you’re doing so well for me…” Brahms praises you with affection dripping from his voice. Slowly pulling back out, you hiss slightly with the loss of friction. He pushes back in, then out again. Setting a steady pace, Brahms thoroughly enjoys your walls clenching around him with each hip thrust he makes.

“Ah! D-don’t stop! Please!” You begin to see stars with each push he does, as his cock reaches the deepest part of your cavern. Mentally, Brahms thanks whatever god is out there for letting this happen. He feels so lucky to have found and been accepted by such a wonderful person as you. Ironically, you’re feeling the same way about him.

“Good… good girl…” Brahms attempts to kiss you again, but your open mouth pants make it impossible. He could feel himself reaching his end, but he wanted to savor it with you as long as he could.

“Cum for me, Y/n! I’m so close… Please cum with me!” He practically begs, and who are you to deny him what the two of you want most. With a last few thrusts, you suddenly clench around his being with as much might as you could give. Slamming your eyes shut to not get dizzy, you lean your forehead forward into his. Brahms releases his tension into you without remorse, even knowing the potential consequences.

“Oh, Brahms… that was…” You sigh in pleasure.

“Amazing…” He finishes for you.

~~~

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