#the boy 2016 x reader

[consciouscarrot]

day 21 - femdom [b.heelshire]

brahms heelshire x fem!reader

content warnings; handjob, tit sucking, subby brahms, sort of dacryphilia, lots of pet names (as usual), mentions of breastfeeding

notes; would love to do a longer version of this in the future, or anything with brahms really as he’s my baby

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

you’d woken up in the middle of the night to brahms stood by your bedside, soft moonlight casting over him as his hands fisted over the wool of his cardigan.

“what’s wrong, baby,” you cooed, lifting your arms to encourage him to join you.

he quickly clambered onto you, dropping down and shoving his face into your chest, clinging to your nightdress with a muffled whine. only when you shifted beneath him did you realise why he’d come to you, his arousal evident from the way it pressed into your thigh.

“oh, honey, do y’need some help?”

he nodded against you, mask digging into your skin. you gently guided him into sitting up, kneeling on the bed before you, hands sat patiently on the tops of his thighs, attention locked on you.

he watched intently as you pulled your nightgown over your head, leaving you completely bare. his eyes roamed over you, letting out a pathetic whimper at the sight of you. he was just as enamoured by your body as he was the first time he’d seen you, fingers twitching against his legs in an effort to hold back his touches, desperate to please you, awaiting your instructions.

shifting forwards, your hands cupped his face, fingers slowly curling underneath the edges of his mask, giving him plenty of warning before you removed it, revealing his scarred skin, eyes glistening with desperate tears.

you leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his, mouths moving together, a slow swipe of your tongue before he let you in, tongues swirling together as he gave in to his desires, tugging you into him and hands clutching tightly at you.

you pulled away, giggling when he tried to follow your lips, never wanting to separate. his brow furrowed, crocodile tears finally spilling over with his cry of complaint, head tilting in confusion when you tug at his shirt.

“gotta take these off, brahmsy. can’t help you otherwise,”

he rushed to strip off, and you internally cringe at the fabric tearing in his hastiness. but, his proud expression calms you, hopeful for your approval.

“good boy, baby. c’mere, let’s lay down,”

he beams, crawling over to you before curling up into your side, head resting on your tit as he grasped at you, hips involuntarily bucking up when his bare cock grazes your hip, pre trickling out his slit, clear fluid smearing over your skin.

“please, touch,” he cried, burying his face into you, nuzzling your nipple.

“shh, okay brahmsy, been so good for me,”

you ran a finger down the tender skin of his cock, chuckling to yourself when his hips bucked again, now mouthing at your tit, slow, open-mouth kisses and swipes of his tongue.

you melt when he lets out a particularly pitiful mewl, clinging to your body, hands gripping at you almost painfully, far too horny to be able to think properly.

finally wrapping your hand around him, you pumped your fist, thumb occasionally swiping over his head. he thrusted into your touch, strings of whimpers and breathy moans tumbling from his parted lips.

with your free hand, you guided your nipple into his mouth, gasping when he latched on immediately, suckling frantically as if worried that you’d pull away, and this would be the last time he ever got to feel your skin under his tongue. he suckled like he thought that if he tried hard enough, that your sweet milk would spill into his mouth, warm fluid pooling in his mouth, small amounts escaping and trickling down his chin.

you could feel slick collecting between your legs, hot cunt throbbing from the feel of his mouth and the way he cried out, sending vibrations through you.

having already been so pent up, both from waiting for you to wake up, and your incessant teasing, brahms’ high was already fast approaching, hips bucking wildly into your fist, pleasure causing his legs to tremble next to you.

you felt his teeth graze you, before he bit into the soft flesh of your tit, overwhelmed with pleasure. his tongue swiped over the indents of his teeth, soothing the broken skin with an apologetic whine.

he flicked his gaze up to you, eyes burning from the effort as he waited for your permission, trying his best to hold back from cumming too soon. you smiled down at him warmly, “cum for me, sweet boy.”

his eyes scrunched shut, stomach tensing before his head fell back, mouth agape as he finally let go with a drawn out moan. pearly cum spurted from his tip, splattering over the two of you as you slowed your movements, elongating out his orgasm.

he went limp in your arms, thoroughly mollified and smiling dreamily after being fully emptied. he sighed sleepily, and you settled for wiping your cum covered hand on the sheets, knowing that he’d be dead weight until at least tomorrow morning.

you stroked over his sweat-damp hair, watching him as he began to fall asleep, still clutching your body tightly against his.

you loved that he had only ever been yours, that he had never felt someone else’s loving touch, had never cum from somebody else’s hand. he had only ever needed you, hadn’t loved anyone else and never wanted to.

he was yours and only yours. you were just as obsessed with him, as he was you.

[xxxsl33p-l0vr]

[soupbabe]

I know I need to write something about it, but mind is very full of Brahms falling for the new grocery boy. Like I don't care if this is a replacement for Malcom or not, I just think about Brahms risking to be seen just so he can watch the cute new guy come in from the window. He gets so shy when he's in the mansion. Brahms's mother hears much from him about how he wants to leave a good impression on him. Brahms prepares for the weekly arrival and drops off small notes for him to discover later on. Over the years the grocery boy just learns to roll with whatever storyline the Heelshires want for their son and just laugh it off.

But only if you knew how serious Brahms is about him.

He was lucky to have him stay the night a couple of times and he loved it. He's a lot more active, rumbling in the walls would follow his every move. Thinking about Brahms watching him as he prepares for bed. He'd probably steal his shirts so he can have a piece of him all the time, (seeing him sleep shirtless was honestly just a plus). In the morning he'd find a note on the nightstand from Brahms, detailing how fun the sleepover was and maybe a kind words of how darling he looked while he slept.

Who cares if he wasn't able to get his goodnight kiss, I don't think Brahms minds some rule breaking if you're cute enough 🤷

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content, implied smut

♡note; swapped out billy in this one bc i can’t imagine him sharing a bed with someone and not getting literally pornographic

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> Once he decides he wants to share the bed, he finds the biggest guest room bed and brings all of the comfiest pillows and blankets he can to make it perfect

> For you more than him, but he doesn’t feel too hurt when you push half of them to the foot of the bed

> It was a lot even for a king bed

> You’re reluctant at first, not used to sharing a bed

> But you find he’s very hard to say no to once you’re in that deep

> He tries to give you space, but it’s not long before he’s wrapped around you, clinging for dear life

> And he almost immediately falls asleep like that, head tucked into your chest

> You sigh and try and relax, petting his hair

> And you fall asleep with your hand still tangled in his black locks, holding him close to you

> You wake up to him nuzzling your neck and practically whining

> “Baby…wake up…”

> You’d ask him what the problem was…if you couldn’t feel it against your leg

> You spend most of the morning still in bed, lazily fixing his predicament

Micheal Myers

> He doesn’t get why you want him to do this

> You know he doesn’t cuddle

> You know he usually gets restless and wanders at night

> But there’s no reason to say no, and even he can’t stand how sad your pout is

> You hum and stretch, tucking yourself in and look at him expectantly

> He takes off his boots and lays on top of the covers beside you, stiff as a board

> You have to coax him to even take the mask off, but he still won’t relax

> You quickly realize he’s used to high security psych ward bunks, not big comfy queen beds full of stuffed animals

> “…do you…wanna sleep on the floor?”

> He pauses.

> Shakes his head and closes his eyes.

> After you finally fall sleep, he sits up, intending on leaving

> But you look so peaceful…he can’t help to stay and watch you. Just for a little while.

> When he touches your cheek, you press into his hand. Maybe a while longer.

> When you wake up he’s still staring at you, hand long gone from your cheek

> But once you blink awake, it creeps somewhere else..

Thomas Hewitt

> He’s almost nervous of the idea

> Y’all are certainly intimate with each other - just as intimate as you would be if you were married like his mama was planning

> But what if the family noticed you were in there? He’d kill Hoyt for calling you anything nasty-

> When he sees you in skimpy PJs, he immediately forgets his worries

> He has a huge bed because he’s a huge guy, so when you curl up in it alone, it’s almost comical

> He’s staring at you as he climbs in after you, cautiously removing his mask

> His shoulders relax a little when you smile up at him, still so amazed you can stand to look at him

>“Hold me?”

> He grunts and takes no time in pulling you flush, spooning you. He’s more relaxed than he’s been in a while, sure he’ll fall asleep in no time

> Until you give a tiny sigh and shift your hips, innocently adjusting

> It doesn’t take much for you to set him off- he’s touch starved and obsessed with you.

> Along with feeling him against your ass, you can literally hear his breathing change.

> “…Tommy baby? Want me to take care of that?”

> It takes another two hours before you fall asleep, both sticky with sweat and sated, your head laying on his broad chest.

Bubba Sawyer

> He’s so happy to have a sleepover- even if you live right down the hall in the same house (I cannot imagine you dating him and being allowed to leave the farm tbh)

> He gives you an updated tour of his room- he’s very happy to show you the collection of polaroids of you he hung up.

> You were wondering where those went

> Finally he drops you on the bed, giggling quietly

> It’s old but comfy, and he has plenty of stolen pillows and blankets, and even some stuffed bears

> He strips right on down to his heart boxers, leaving his mask on for last

> He takes it off slowly, giving you that shy look he always does

> You grin and open your arms and he’s more than happy to scoop you up with a coo.

> By the time you’re settled, you’re curled around his back

> He loves being the little spoon, even if he’s a big brute

> When you wake up he’s bursting back into the room with some slightly burnt toast for breakfast

> It’s a sudden wake up call, but a welcome one

> And you repay him in tons of kisses, all over

Vincent Sinclair

> Like some of the others he’s hesitant

> But you want him to relax, he’s been working so hard- so you take him away from the studio, and into your room

> You’re not even letting him so much as sketch until he sleeps

> He tilts his head and is almost pouting, trying to guilt you - even more so once you help him remove his wax

> Until you coax him into his stomach so you can massage his back, that is

> You’re clumsy and certainly not a professional, but your hands on him is enough to melt away the stress

> He suddenly rolls over and grabs your hips as he hears you yawn

> It’s your turn to pout down at him

> But eventually you relent and let him cradle you close to his chest as he hums a nonsense lullaby

> You keep him trapped in bed the next morning as revenge, again straddling him before he can get up to leave

> But this time, you’re most certainly not yawning

[pastelclovds]

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

- 🛸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mauswyx]

soft-spoken s/o

TLDR: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Jennifer Check, and Bo Sinclair's reactions to having a fairly quiet s/o WORD COUNT: 1k CW: none, fluff AO3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Thomas Hewitt

ironically would not be used to the silence at first; he’s used to chatters and screaming! He’s never met someone who speaks so quietly 

will lean towards you when you speak, listening intensely 

finds your silence comforting after the initial shock and enjoys your quiet presence as he goes about his business

quickly adapts to communicating with you via body language and facial expressions, etc; it is a method he’s familiar with after all

takes great pride that he’s the only one that can read your mind or decipher your mumbling

He couldn’t help but spare you a glance every so often as you sat at the opposite end of the barn as he worked. You were mending a shirt Luda Mae scavenged from some luggage…or at least trying to. Your bottom lip was swollen from being gnawed on and your brow was furrowed–the needlework must be tedious, he concluded. He turned his attention back to his work, a few minutes passed before he decided to glance up again only to find that you were muttering to yourself, trying to rethread the string through the eye.

Despite finding your frustration amusing, he couldn’t take your suffering anymore. He strode over to you, gently enveloping your hand in his before plucking the needle away. He made quick work of the thread, giving you a knowing look as he set back to work, but not before hearing a quiet “Thank you Tommy.” 

Brahms Heelshire

does not enjoy that he can’t coax loud reactions from you; he works so hard to mess with you and you don’t say anything?! How rude!

will switch gears and will purposefully pretend not to know what you’re gesturing to or that he can’t hear you to annoy you; he can play by your game but he won’t play fair

he’s been (watching) studying you through the walls so it’s quite easy for him to pick up on your body language to know what you’re feeling or wanting of him 

actually likes your voice and will do everything in his power to get you to use it; even if it means getting a scolding 

bedtime is his favorite part of the day because he gets to listen to you read; will pick out exceptionally long books to listen to you just a while longer 

Echoes etched the room as you tapped your foot against the dusty rug. He had been in a mood all afternoon: being especially disobedient and ignoring your calls from within the walls. He was being so difficult that you had no choice but to search for him, though it proved to be in vain as you couldn’t find him anywhere. A worried knot began to form in your stomach. There was only one thing you could do. With a deep inhale you rolled your head on your shoulders before letting out a shout.

“Brahms!” Your voice was hoarse–not used to being at such a volume, rolling your eyes in frustration “Please come out!” The scraping of wood met your ears shortly before his long arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You bit the interior of your cheek as you could hear the smugness in his voice, having won his game.

“There’s no need to shout.”

Jennifer Check

“they said no pickles.” embodiment 

at first, mistakes your quietness for being flustered by her and she amps up her prowess only to realize you’re like this…all the time…with everyone 

will speak for you whether it’s ordering your food or answering a question on your behalf; is actually exceptionally good at knowing what you want without much effort 

actually doesn’t mind the silence when you don’t feel like talking—grateful that you two can just share a moment together or that she can have someone to rant to

will not make a big deal if you feel talkative, she’ll casually continue the conversation in hopes it’ll make you feel more comfortable

“-and who does that? It’s bullshit!” she scoffed, gently scraping the tips of her long nails on the back of your hand as she laid next to you. You silently nodded in agreement, staring up at her face: her nose was scrunched and her eyes were glazed over, lost in thought–before suddenly snapping down to stare into your own. “I mean, you don’t think I’m in the wrong do you?” 

You couldn’t help letting your lip curl up at her pout, she had definitely been the cause of the altercation but you’d never tell her that; instead, you opted to halfheartedly shake your head. As expected, your poor acting didn’t go unnoticed and her eyes widened before playfully swatting her hand at your stomach.

“No way! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Bo Sinclair

“huh” x5

cannot understand what you’re saying for the life of him and gets annoyed very easily; more so at his own inability to comprehend you when everyone else seems to understand you just fine

interrupts you when you’re speaking, trying to guess what you’re saying instead of just listening 

puts on a big show to do as you asked when he does finally pick up on what you’re saying 

often wrongly infers what you’re saying but at least he’s trying

“Darlin’…'' he groaned, running a hand down his face “-you’re gunna needa work with me…” You huffed out a breath of air, already annoyed at having had to already repeat yourself twice and repeating yourself a third time honestly wasn’t even worth it; you just wanted the step-ladder to reach something in top-stock, but at this point you’d rather just climb the shelves themselves than have to be stuck in this never ending game of charades. You were half-tempted to do just that, but the look on Bo’s face made you relent; he had been so patient the least you could do was not give up on him.

“I need the ladder…” you said again, this time trying to enunciate your words as best as possible and to your surprise his face lit up. Not a great sign. 

“Bladder?” he repeated, not waiting for a response as he sped towards the shop counter, “Don’t worry baby! I’ll get the restroom key!”

[lace-coffin]

Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!

How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O

Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖

Requests are open!

Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)

Reader is gender neutral!

Bubba sawyer

Most likely happened via Bubba playing too hard and Accidently pushing you over or being a bit too heavy handed with you. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before being able to stop then they’ll be even more in inconsolable : (

Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic.

She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.

Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either Choptop or Nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you.

Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.

Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him that it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault.

Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.

Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re accidently messing around to hard.

Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.

Thomas Hewitt

After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control, Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow after him, intending to comfort and wanting to help. You place a hand on his shoulder without thinking, forgetting he doesn’t enjoy physical touch without warning, thinking it might help. Whipping around he grabs your wrist a little too hard, causing you to wince.

He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done.

Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage.

Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense.

He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most, after all.

After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again.

You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.

Michale Myers

You jump out at Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before, You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only superficial and will heal, but it still looks like it needs medical attention.

Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling underneath the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.

Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed ; )

Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael, so it shakes him to his core that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing instead of feeling the usual indifference.

It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.

After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he forces you go to A&E, practically marching your ass out the door.

Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t exactly casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking close by to make sure you arrive and leave safely.

Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.

Jason voorhees

You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers or caught in a trap and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you. The woods were beautiful but so dense and vast, getting lost or injured in the thick of them may as well be a death sentence.

Whilst searching for your missing partner you get your leg snagged in a bear trap he had set out previously for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.

Jason was trudging his way back to the cabin when he heard it. Knowing that wasn’t a rougue teen as he’d cleared them out already, alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.

He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.

He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..less than pleasent.

He signs for you to grip onto his arm for support. Since he’s already dead and regenerates fairly quickly he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.

Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.

If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though, he’ll be sitting by the window of your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.

You’re no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone if he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other and feel more at ease.

Billy Lenz

Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be fine to just be in the room though, providing you stay out of his way. As you enter, Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest too much to bear. You enter just as he’s angrily thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage. It shatters and flecks of sparkling glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush off to take care of it.

Billy doesn’t even realise what’s happened until you return to him, him now having exhausted himself and you knowing it’s safe to try do some damage control. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.

Your hands touch as he’s accepting the plate from you with a muted “thank you” and he notices the bandage.

Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.

Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening with the state he was in.

He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.

Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)

Brahms Heelshire

When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you sliced your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood soaking through your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.

You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.

As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned in the slightest but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if you’re ok and if you need a hospital.

You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern, you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little bit sheltered.

After cleaning the cut and bandaging it, it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.

He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.

He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven.

He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.

Asa Emory

If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely that most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often considering your residency in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else he would leave the wounds to fester, if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.

If the wound was created by him on accident then he would give himself a hard time, chastising himself for his carelessness.

For example, if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do, causing you to develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for too long.

Asa would realise you’re injured once you’re let out of the trunk, hissing in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where you’re hurting so he can inspect over it.

Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows you’re hurt because of him and it wasn’t purposeful or measured like it would be during a punishment. He sees this as failure in his pet care and it takes a blow to his god complex. Gods don’t make mistakes, but here he is, hurting his dolly by being so out of it.

He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does however still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his belt. Just because you’re hurt and his favourite toy, doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.

He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual for a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it’s back to normal routine as expected.

Predator/yautja

You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market during the day, You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.

Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house, hackles raising and stalking towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.

Their eyes widen in horror, rushing to the door as they catch scent of your tangly blood dripping onto the hardwood floor of your shared home.

The new perfume masked your familiar scent from them, making them believe the house was in danger and being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would, cringing as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.

They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t actually understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so you don’t bleed out and that you’re not going to pass out on them, they insist on carrying you their medic instead of going to an ooman one.

They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”

Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced, It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks. The wound stitched shut and given some kind of injection.

Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.

They beg for forgiveness despite it literally being an accident and will need some reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re all healed up they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.

Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled tightly against them whilst they purr and sooth you.

My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!

[phantom-scares]

Oh, to be cuddling with brahms as he humps my leg in the most desperate pace ever, begging and whimpering as if his life depends on it (it does). He holds onto your waist while rubbing himself against your soft thigh

Once he finally cums, he can feel the euphoria everywhere. He can only thank you for honoring him with such pleasure. But then he gets on top of you, pinning you on the bed.

"More..."

-👻!

[phantomdreawingpsycho]

Brahms heelshire

( Not mine )

[early20sfailingplenty]

Brahms Heelshire killed an abuser and for that I'll always root for him

[eccentricallygothic]

okay but greta was so stupid???

like hear me out?

brahms was huge? like grizzly huge? was rich? had a mansion? good wine? lifetime of free groceries and bills? obsessed with her so he would never cheat? english hence the sexy accent? would have sliced anyone who looked at her wrong (or simply looked at her and i am not complaining)? obedient? adored her? would have cooked for her if she asked?

i am sorry guys

he was a catch in my demure little books

[soupbabe]

Brahms Heelshire with do you write bigender reader he/they? Like reader is super strong and can easily pick up he's boy. Like he weighs nothing to reader, like the doll. Reader easily batheds and takes car of him. Brahms is overwhelmed because for the first time he truly feels loved and taken care of. Reader slowly reintegrates him and they live like a couple. Tho Brahms still child like at least he's happy and not alone anymore more (sorry about my English. thanks)

Bath Time (Brahms Heelshire x Bigender! Reader)

Brahms doesn't want to leave the bath.

When you sent this I immediately thought of this lil drabble! I hope it still fits to what you wanted, I thought it was cute at least ♡

Tagging: @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @devil-doll13

Brahms huffed as the sound of the water returning back into the drains echoes around the bathroom. Wet clumps of hair cover his old scars as he watched his boyfriend get his mask from the counter. "Brahms, bath time is over. You need to get out." You gently handed him his mask, but he simply turned his head away from you. "Honey, you'll get cold if you stay in there. I'll let you wear one of my sweaters if you get out," You coo and offer up the mask again, though once more you're shut down by the shake of his head.

This time with an added "hmph."

You set his mask back down on the bathroom counter and squat to his eye level. "Why do you want to stay in here? I know how much you like to wear my sweaters, I can even make us some tea and I'll read to you." You coaxed, laying your promises on thick. While you were able to make your lover's cheeks turn pink and consider it, he still crossed his arms.

"Alright, you leave me no choice," You stood up and stretched. Brahms failed to stifle a giggle as you picked him up with ease. His arms were wrapped around your neck as you carried him bridal style. You looked down to see Brahms smiling, shuffling into the comfort of your big arms. His eyes gleamed mischievously and you could only sigh. "You're a big baby, y'know that?"

Brahms rolled his eyes and tilted your head down so his lips can meet your own. "I need to be close to you."

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2006), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral - i tried to be ambiguous but where i couldn’t be, i gave an option for both sets of parts uwu

♡ cw; sex (this is smut my friend), a little bit of implied breeding kink, possessiveness

♡ notes; what it says on the tin; you lose your virginity the first time you have sex with your stabby bf. i can only dream 😔

also, probably the last fic with a random selection of characters , i have the poll results n everything. vincent was the winner and brahms three percent behind him, so they’re being added to a-team permanently

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> he’s relieved when you tell him you haven’t gone that far before

> because he’s a virgin too, and probably more nervous than you are

> he’s eager though- he’s always eager when it comes to you

> he pulls you on top, grabbing your hips and grinding up on you as you kiss

> and then he urges you to use his face- fuck it or sit on it, depending on what you’re working with

> and while your hesitant, not wanting to overwhelm him for his first time

> but god, he’s a good little sub, and he loves every second of it

> after he’s made you cum, he pulls away- practically still drooling, and begs for you to touch him

> he bucks up into your hand immediately, already so hard he’s twitching

> if he lasts more than a few pumps, he flips you, seeming shy to pin you, but trying his best

> and he has to take a breather to make sure he doesn’t immediately cum inside you

> he’s slow at first, literally shaking

> and for your first time, it’s all missionary- he needs to watch your face, making sure he’s doing a good job

> and making sure he tells you how pretty you are

> he cums first, he just can’t help it- but he’s not at all hesitant to replace his cock with his fingers

> and he makes sure you cum at least twice more, using his mouth again if he needs to

> by the time you finally catch your breath, he’s already more than ready for round 2

Micheal Myers

> he’s already pushing you to your knees in front of him when you manage to tell him

> he pauses- he’s not sure what to do

> he’s always rough.

> and he’d been rough with you thus far

> he rubs your cheek softly and huffs- and at first you think he’s going to put a stop to things for the day

> until he throws you over his shoulder, giving your ass a playful squeeze in the process

> of course he’s not going to fuck you on the porch like an animal

> not for your very first time at least

> he drops you on the bed and takes his mask off

> it’s not the first time you’ve seen him without it, but it’s still special

> he teases you, hands all over your body as he carefully watches your reactions

> he has you in your undies when he finally gets impatient and goes back to his usual selfishness

> he had you get on your knees again- this time more gently coaxing, and guides you through taking him

> and for the record, there’s a lot to take

> before you have him too needy he lays you down

> you can tell this is going to be a once in a while thing, so you savor the sight of him between your thighs

> he eats you out/rims you like it’s his goddamn job, staring up at you all the while

> it’d be creepy if he wasn’t so good at what he was doing

> if you insist on missionary, he’ll let you this time

> but he wants you doggy so he can watch you take him inch by inch

> this boy has so much stamina

> you cum three times before he finally pulls out, painting your back

> you try to sit up but he doesn’t let you- he’s not done with you

> not even close

Thomas Hewitt

> something about his eyes darken when you tell him you’re a virgin

> he’d never be the one to initiate something first - he’s far too scared of crossing your boundaries to lead like that

> so if you’re telling him, it’s probably because you’re telling him you want him to take your virginity

> and even though he never believed in the Bible, or the sexist shit Hoyt always spouted

> he’s possessive, and if something about being your first is exciting. it was another part of you that’d be all his

> before you know it the man is ripping your clothes off. like literally ripping.

> he manhandles you- unintentionally, but it’s hard for him not to with your size difference

>he spreads your thighs wide apart and goes to town

> he goes down on you again, and again, and again and—

> by the time he sits up you’re already overstimulated

> but it’s his turn, and he’s eager to take it

> you can feel how huge he is through his pants, and your jaw drops when you see him

> “Tommy, that won’t fit”

> he huffs, amused through his mask and nuzzles you reassuringly

> he starts in missionary, but then he pushes your legs up into a full mating press

> he fucks into you deep and hard, going faster until you’re babbling nonsense

> he pulls your hair and makes you look him in the eye as he cums inside

> and when he does pull out, you can feel it dripping from you

> he looks at it and then up at you excitedly, and you know what he wants

> again

[rabbitblackx]

Hi! 💕 would you be able to do jaosna, brahms and michael reactions that the reader when they raise their hand or make some sudden movement, the reader thinks that they want to hit her?

Slashers make Reader flinch

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Brahms Heelshire

Michael Myers💖

Michael came home one Halloween night, hands drenched with blood. He was menacing as ever, standing there still in the dark

“Hi, Michael.” You called out quietly

The only reply you received was his heavy breathing from behind the mask, followed by the floor whining under his boots. He seemed a bit riled up from his killing spree, the faintest glint of delightful rage in his black eye

Michael was beginning to get too close. Just as you were to back into the wall, his fist came up to rest against your head. You immediately flinched, a small squeal of fear leaving your lips

Michael was not expecting you to flinch like that. It wasn’t like he was gonna hurt you. This made him mad. You cracked your eyes open and hesitatingly looked up at him in the dark. A look of almost betrayal twinkled in his eye before he turned his back

“Michael?”

He never thought something like that would bother him. You had been with Michael long enough. Did you still not trust him? After all the self restraint, all the control and gentleness he forced on himself. And you still acted like he was a monster

Michael walked away as calmly as he could. He didn’t want to be around you anymore, but he also wanted to prove his point… that he would never hurt you

Jason Voorhees💖

Jason came home in a bad mood. You didn’t know whether it was because someone got away, or that they were putting up a fight… he was just mad

Jason dumped his bloody machete by the door and brushed right past you, completely ignoring your presence. You turned to watch him storm towards your bedroom. He was probably gonna go to bed and lock you out. He had done that before

“Jason, are you okay?” You asked softly

Jason paused there by the door, and your heart stopped. He stood still for a moment, before turning and walking straight toward you. You watched on wide eyed for a moment, but then flinched back in fear when he got too close

“Please don’t hurt me, Jason. I’m sorry.” You squeaked from behind your hands

Jason’s broad shoulders suddenly slumped. That made him sad. You were scared he was gonna hurt you? Of course he wouldn’t

He watched helplessly as you cowered, before you fearfully peeked up at him. You flinched again as Jason slowly brought his hand up to touch your cheek. He let it linger there, fingers gently brushing against your hair

Before you could say another word, Jason slipped his hand away and turned his back. You brought your own up to touch the same spot as he stormed back out of your cabin

Brahms Heelshire💖

You got back from the village a little later than you told Brahms today. You knew you were gonna be in big rouble because of it

You shut the front doors as quietly as you could, but you knew he was aware of your presence. Just as you were planning what to tell him, you turned away from the doors to find him looming in the shadows

“Brahms,” you smiled nervously

Brahms did not reply. His breathing was heavy behind his mask and he slowly approached you. You held your own breath as he got real close, looming over you menacingly. You were about to apologise, but was startled when he raised his hand

You yelped, throwing yourself against the front doors and shielding your face. Brahms watched in shock. All he was trying to do was put his hand on your shoulder. It stung a little that you flinched away from him like that

You peeked up at Brahms standing before you, his hand still slightly raised as a sad look washed over his eyes. “Brahms, I’m sorry. I thought you were gonna hurt me.” You frowned

Brahms’ shoulders slumped, and he sadly shook his head. Tears pricked your eyes at his broken reaction, and you suddenly felt terrible. You apologised again, throwing your arms around him and resting your head on his chest

Brahms wrapped his own around you in a tight hug. He frowned under his mask as he nuzzled against your hair

[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.