Brahms Heelsire X Reader - Blog Posts

Blue Boy٭

sᴇʀɪᴇs: ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ

ʙʀᴀʜᴍs ʜᴇᴇʟsʜɪʀᴇ {2016} x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : sᴍᴜᴛ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙᴀᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, handsiness, ʙᴀʙʏɪɴɢ, ʙᴀʙʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ-ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ,

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝙮/𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙝𝙢𝙨 𝙃𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙮 𝙮/𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙝 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙟𝙤𝙗 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨.

Coming soon...

🦈My type🦈

Booty Calls, But Not

Pairings: Brahms Heelshire x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, kind of phone sex, almost caught, oral (fem receiving) mild sub!brahms, dom!brahms, hair pulling, rough sex

Summary: Malcom gives you a call but of course Brahms can't leave you alone.

You were sat in the living room reading a book as you usually did when Brahms was hiding in the walls. The snow was heavy only a few days ago, and because of that, the two of you were stuck indoors, salvaging the box of food that Malcolm had bought a week ago.

Because of the snow, you figured that Malcolm wouldn't show up until the snow had arrived; it was all just a waiting game for the two.

Finally, after hours of you wondering what Brahms was doing in that room of his, he decided to show up. He waddled into the room, his hands pinned to his side as he looked down shyly. His entire figure displayed an innocent boy, but his thoughts were the complete opposite. After sitting in his room for so long, Brahms had managed to work himself up from thoughts of you.

"What have you been up to, Brahms?" You ask as you close the book you were reading and give him all your attention.

"I want to do things to you." His voice was soft as he spoke up, but nonetheless, it still shocked you as you looked at him wide-eyed. While his words left you mildly stunned, the confidence in his voice turned you on, and you couldn't help but rub your thighs together. "Please, Y/n?" He begged as he took slow steps towards you.

Your eyes followed him intently as you watched him kneel down on his knees in front of you; you opened your legs for Brahms to crawl forward and leaned down and pushed his mask up. Your lips met his in a slow kiss.

His hands ran up your legs until they reached your hips, where he pulled you forward so you were sitting on the edge of the seat. "Pretty, Y/n." He mumbled as he lifted up your skirt, revealing to him the underwear you were wearing. "So, so, pretty." He continued as he leaned in and placed a kiss on the cloth.

He blew cold air onto your most sensitive area before licking a long stripe against your underwear. Your mouth had dropped open and your jaw hung slack as you breathed heavily.

Suddenly the phone began to ring, snapping you out of your intense trance. You reached over to pick it up but Brahms grabbed a hold of your wrists. “Brahms, it could be Malcolm.” You said before shaking off his hands. You picked up the phone and the voice of your delivery boy sounded through.

“Hello, Y/n. How are you?” He asked politely. You couldn’t get a response out as you felt Brahms push your underwear to the side and continue to flick his tongue against your clit.

With your lip between your teeth, you attempted to keep quiet to not reveal your actions. “You there?” Malcolm asked.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got lost in thought. I’m alright, yeah.” You stammered out.

“Good to hear.” He responded.

The feeling of Brahms kitten licking at your sensitive bud made you feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure as you tried to keep up with every flick. Your hand that wasn’t holding the phone was balled tightly into a fist to keep some sort of balance.

You kept the phone at a distance so that you could hear Malcolm but also so that he couldn’t hear your obnoxious breathing through the receiver. “The weathers been all over the place recently.” Malcolm interrupted the silence between the two of you.

Your hips were frantically rotating, on one end you were trying to receive more, but on the other you were trying to escape from the pleasure and Brahms wasn’t having any of it. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you close to his face. “Snow everywhere...” Malcolm trailed off.

“Yes! The snow. I’m- will you come?” You asked through broken words.

Your free hand found itself lost in the dark forest of Brahms hair. His hair had grown a bit since you had arrived and while it wasn’t too long, it was long enough that you could create a cute man bun with chunks of hair hanging out the side. You tugged and pulled as you tried to grind yourself against his mouth. “I don’t think I’d make it. Most the roads are blocked off and my cars engine probably wouldn’t be able to heat up.” Malcolm explained. “I can try if you need though.”

“No! -I mean no, it’s fine. I’ll last another week.” You let out a poor attempt at a chuckle to disguise a moan that you couldn’t help but let out. You were getting closer and closer to snapping and your fingers were crossed that you could eat Malcolm off the phone before that.

“No worries. Do you think you’ll be alright out there, all on your own?” He questioned. You couldn’t help but smirk as you looked down at the boy between your legs.

“I’ll be just fine.” You breathed out.

Brahms pulled away from you, his mouth and the surrounding area covered in a mixture of spit and your juices. You frantically shook your head as Brahms began unbuckling his belt and pulling them down, his hard cock showing itself in full form. You almost drooled at the sight of the precum slipping out and dropping. “Well you have my number if you need me.” Malcolm said. You nodded your head but then silently cursed at yourself having been distracted by Brahms.

“Yes I do.” You we’re currently being turned around and positioned in doggy style as Brahms adjusted himself behind you. “I’ll call you if I need you, but for now I should go.” You rushed out as you felt the tip of Brahms dick rubbing against your entrance.

“I’ll let you go then. See you when I can, Y/n.” He said his goodbyes and as soon as you heard the beep of the phone, Brahms had pushed through your walls.

You let out a much needed moan as you slammed the phone down.

Brahms hips rolled against yours in a slow motion before he began to speed up. His movements went from grinding to thrust as he pulled himself out and pushed straight back in. Every thrust was with power as he fucked against your soaked cunt and every growl he let out was with meaning as he silently told you that you were his. While he didn’t like the idea of you conversing with the delivery boy, he would rather you do that then go and get the groceries yourself.

His hands kept a strong grip on your hips as he pulled you back against him with every thrust. “Mine.” He groaned out deeply. “All mine.” His hand reached around and rubbed at your sensitive clit to add extra pleasure.

You allowed your moans to fall out without a care in the world, no one would hear how loud you screamed if you wanted to, or were made to. “Brahms!” You cried as he hit the right spot. You whined as you tried to pull Brahms’ hand away from your clit, but he smacked it away and instead pulled you by your hair.

Your back was against his chest with an arch as he forced you in place. His lips connected with yours once more for a sloppy kiss due to the moans you both let out. Brahms then pulled away and pushed you back down, putting all his wait into his arms as he pushed against your back. Your moans became muffled as your face was pushed against the couch.

If someone was to stand outside the room they would hear the skin on skin slapping added with a mixture of low growls and muffled whining, people would think badly about the situation but what it was, was a good fuck.

Brahms was close, his thrusts beginning to lose the pattern as he chased for a release he had been desperately waiting for and you were close too, he could feel you clenching around him. “Fuck, Brahms!” While it wasn’t clear, Brahms could still hear you perfectly as he picked up the pace.

He knew you had cum as your moans turned high pitch and your body began to shake against his hold. His thrusts only lasted a few more before he paused deep inside you and released his seed. His cum painted your walls in white stripes as he hunched over your limp form. Both your breathing filled the room as Brahms finally released the pressure of your back. Your eyes clenched shut and you let out a quiet moan as Brahms pulled out. You could feel his cum leak out and drop onto the couch but you couldn’t care less in the moment.

“That was the hottest thing ever. You should do that more when Malcolm’s calling.” You suggested jokingly and of course Brahms took that seriously.

guard dog [b.heelshire]

summary: your ex-boyfriend tries to take you away from brahms. chaos ensues.

fandom: horror (the boy - 2016)

pairing: brahms heelshire x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: this is VERY DARK, please proceed with caution. death, murder, very very heavy descriptions of stabbing and blood, dark!reader, brief mentions of kidnapping, just all the gory stuff

note: i am so excited to post this omg i know it’ll probably flop but i had SO MUCH FUN writing it!!! pls let me know if u like it and as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

“Brahms…” you call, a soft and playful lilt in your voice as you walk across the quiet mansion; you presume that Brahms is either asleep or lurking within the walls until a shuffle followed by a gurgle comes from the direction of the kitchen. A shiver runs down your spine as you follow the noise. You call out again, louder this time.

“Brahms.”

He heaves a deep, ragged breath as you enter the kitchen and you gasp softly. In front of you stands Brahms, covered in a thin sheen of blood and sweat, clutching a massive bread knife and looming over a barely recognisable corpse. The porcelain mask covers his features but you can imagine his face contorted with rage, thick brows furrowed and teeth bared in a snarl. The flush that creeps down his neck and into his chest and ears tells you exactly how he’s feeling without you exchanging a single word. You glance down at the dead body, your eyes widening slightly. You’re not surprised, per-se, but rather touched that he’d go to these lengths for you. Before you met Brahms, you were squeamish, shying away from anything remotely gruesome. But living here with him… you’ve had to adapt.

“Is that Derek?”

Derek. Your piece of shit, toxic ex-boyfriend who had an obsession with you so strong he followed you out into the middle of the English countryside to try and drag you back into his life, even if you were kicking and screaming the whole way.

“Don’t be mad,” Brahms chokes, “He was trying to take you away from me. I don’t want you to go…” He stumbles into your arms, his massive frame engulfing you. The blood sticks to you but you press yourself into him regardless, prying the knife from his grip gently.

“I’m not mad,” you murmur, “You were just protecting me, sweet boy.” He nods frantically, his body crumpling. Cooing reassurances, you lower him to the kitchen floor, raking your fingers through his dark curls. He whimpers, the coldness of the mask seeping into your skin and making you shiver. Poor thing; he’d do anything to protect you, including die. He’s really not as scary as he looks - not to you anyway. His cardigan is doused in blood but he refuses to let you peel it from his body. Sighing, you sit against the cabinet, cupping his jaw. He melts into your touch, that high-pitched, childlike voice forcing its way out of him.

“Kiss?”

You smile, leaning forward until your nose presses against the cool hardness of the mask. You lock your lips with the ceramic, eyes fluttering closed. When he whines petulantly, you cock your head, feigning innocence.

“Oh, my boy wants a real kiss?” you ask, sticky hands flying to cover your mouth in over exaggerated shock.

“Please.”

Laughing, you push the mask up just enough to expose his plump lips and press your own to them; he lets out a little grunt, the dark curls sprouting from his chest tickling your exposed portions of skin. You stroke the pebbled flesh adorning his neck and face almost reverently, nipping at the sweet spot under his ear until he’s keening.

“There y’are,” you praise, pecking him one last time before sliding the mask back into place. “Such good manners.”

“Been practicing,” he mumbles, resting his forehead on your shoulder. This new side of him is such a stark contrast from his usual petulant - and at times, bratty - countenance.

Just as he begins to settle against you, there’s a thump and a crash from the front door and Henry, Derek’s best friend, hurtles into the kitchen. Brahms growls, springing up from the floor and swiping the enormous knife from where you left it on the counter.

“Brahms, wait!” You manage to keep a firm grasp on his blood soaked cardigan, drawing him back into you. He’s holding back significantly - he’s never so easy to restrain. Not that it’s your intention to hold him back; you know Henry has to die now, you just want to enjoy toying with him a little first. You fix your gaze on Henry.

“You’re an idiot for coming here. Even more stupid than I thought.”

Henry is stock still, eyes wide as saucers and glued to Derek’s disfigured corpse.

“What did you do to him, you bitch?” he seethes, although his voice wavers and cracks. His face is pallid, brows drawn together and he stifles a shake in his hands to mask his obvious terror. You click your tongue.

“You thought it’d be easy to come all the way out here to kidnap me? Take me back?” you ask, fists clenched at your sides. Derek and his little posse did always have a habit of underestimating you. “You thought he’d let you?” you scoff incredulously, cocking your head towards Brahms. His breaths are heaving and he shakes with a rage you can only begin to imagine the extent of. You giggle at how Brahms must look to Henry. How both of you must look. Covered in blood - Derek’s blood - deep, sticky and crimson, sharp and prominent against Brahms’ pale skin, the wicked glint of the knife taunting Henry. Goading him. Begging him to fight back just so it can plunge into him, slash away until he’s as deformed as his best friend.

“Why are you laughing?” Henry snaps, “Stop that! I’m not scared of your guard dog!”

You almost retch you’re laughing so hard, clutching Brahms’ bicep as tears spill from beneath your waterline and down your cheeks. The choked sounds pouring from your lips are weak and strained as you double over, wheezing. Brahms’ hands grasp under your armpits, lifting you back up to face him. He strokes your hair from your face frantically, nimble thumbs pushing the tears and creases from your cheeks.

“What is it?” Brahms murmurs, shoulders hunched to lower him to your height. The knife dangles from his fingers, just inches from your face, yet you don’t even flinch.

“I-I’m okay,” you hiccup, swaying slightly against his firm grasp. You give yourself a moment to breathe and compose yourself before you’re turning back to Henry and whispering in Brahms’ ear. “We can’t let him leave, baby.”

Brahms is on him before he can even blink; Henry thrashes underneath his weight, grunting with the fruitless effort of trying to escape.

“Don’t fight it,” you snicker, crouching until your nose touches Henry’s and you’re sharing breaths, “It’ll only make it worse.” Pinching his cheek and smearing claret across the smooth skin, you inhale sharply, tracing his lips with the very tip of your finger. “This is the last time you try to take advantage of me.”

The knife sinks into his chest with a slick squelch. Henry screams; Brahms jerks his arm rapidly, shaking him like a rabid dog until he goes slack. Again and again and again he rears back and buries the blade into him. Blood spatters onto the white walls, the linoleum floor, every visible surface is blemished with crimson. Brahms attacks him with an inhuman quality, a deep roar erupting from his chest every time he thinks about these men taking you away from him.

“She’s mine!” he screams.

When Henry is no longer recognisable, limp and far past dead, you pry him away.

“Shh, shh. I’m yours. I’m here. We’re safe, it’s just us.” you soothe, climbing into his lap. “I have you.” His arms squeeze your waist as he holds you flush to him, almost burrowing his way into your skin. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing the slick red skin of his neck and collarbones; there’s so much blood. Is it bad that it turns you on a little? “You did so well. You protected me.”

“You’re mine.” He accentuates the statement with a sharp tug of your body, dropping the knife with a clatter and snaking his drenched arms beneath your hoodie.

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You kiss his head, nestling closer to him. “Yours.”