Pairing : Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Ben Drowned x Reader, Tim Wright x Reader x Brian Thomas, Eyeless Jack x Reader, Homicidal Liu x Reader, HABIT x Reader, Nina the Killer x Reader, Clockwork x Reader
Synopsis : Even the most deprived killers wouldn't break your trust like that ; accusing the creeps of cheating.
note: OK SO. this is probably very self-indulgent!! (sorry for the pic, I couldn't NOT include it XD)
Jeff the Killer
You're perched on the edge of his unmade bed, legs brushing his as he leans in close—closer than usual, his hands hovering before settling lightly on your waist. His kiss starts soft, almost careful, the jagged edges of his carved smile pressing warm and insistent against your cheeks. You melt into it, hands sliding up his chest, and then—without thinking—your tongue flicks out, tracing the ragged scar along his cheek for a brief second.
That's all it takes. His breath hitches, a low growl rumbling from his throat, and suddenly his fingers dig into your jaw, tilting your head back with a grip that's firm, possessive, but not painful. The kiss turns almost feral—teeth nipping, tongue plunging deep, devouring you like he's been starving for this exact moment. He presses you down onto the mattress, body pinning yours, every wild sweep of his mouth claiming more, nastier, until you're both breathless and he's smirking against your swollen lips. "Fuck practice," he rasps. "You're mine now."
Eyeless Jack
He sits cross-legged on his bed, pulling you gently onto his lap, his clawed hands cradling your hips with deliberate care. "We'll go slow," he murmurs, voice a smooth rasp, leaning in until his cool lips meet yours—precise, controlled, like he's savoring every second. It's tender at first, his mouth firm and unyielding, a perfect gentleman even as heat builds.
But then his three tongues brush the seam of your lips, slick and insistent, fighting for restraint. He groans softly, pulling back just a fraction—"Sorry"—before diving in again, one tongue tracing your lower lip while the others coil teasingly at the edges, threatening to slip deeper. It's messy in the best way, wet and overwhelming, his claws tightening on your thighs as he battles not to overwhelm you completely. You arch into him, and he relents a little, letting just the tips explore your mouth in slow, swirling strokes that leave you dizzy, gasping against the impossible sensation. He breaks it eventually, forehead to yours, breathing ragged. "Too much?"
Ben Drowned
He lounges back against his headboard, patting the spot beside him with a cocky smirk—"C'mere, I'll show you how it's done." You straddle his lap, and he dives in bold as hell, lips crashing into yours with zero hesitation, all heat and bravado. His hands roam immediately—fingers splaying across your back, dipping under your shirt to trace your spine, pulling you flush against his chest.
It's sloppy from the jump, his tongue thrusting eagerly but clumsily, bumping against your teeth as he chases the rhythm. He tastes like energy drinks, nipping your lip too hard before soothing it with a messy swipe. "Fuck, like that?" he pants between fervent presses, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your hip to grind you closer. You laugh into his mouth, and it only spurs him on—kisses turning wetter, wilder, his confidence cracking into raw need until you're both a tangled, breathless mess, lips bruised and shining.
Ticci Toby
Toby's room smells like pine shavings and metal, his bed a nest of rumpled blankets where he pulls you down beside him, knees knocking awkwardly. "I-I'm not good at this," he admits, tics jerking his shoulder as he cups your face with bandaged hands, leaning in hesitantly. His lips meet yours soft and uncertain, a quick peck that turns into something more when you tilt into it—then clack, teeth bump clumsily, he grazes your lip.
He jerks back, eyes wide—"Sh-shit, sorry!"—but you're already giggling, the sound pulling a hiccuping laugh from him too. Flushing red, he tries again, slower this time, mouth pressing warm and earnest against yours. It's all twitches and stutters—little hitches in his breath, hands trembling on your cheeks—but the kisses deepen sweetly, tongues brushing shyly amid shared chuckles. He nuzzles your nose after, grinning lopsided. "Th-that wasn't that bad, r-right?"
Laughing Jack
Jack reeks of sugar and something darker, the air sticky-sweet as he tugs you onto his lap. "Don't worry, toots, I'll be gentle," he purrs with a wicked chuckle, his lips curving into a grin before sealing over yours. It's intense from the start—his mouth hot, hungry, sucking your lower lip between his teeth with barely restrained force, like he's fighting every urge to sink in deeper.
You feel it in the way he devours you, tongue swirling possessively, nipping just enough to sting while his long fingers knead your thighs. He groans low, a vibrating rumble that makes your pulse race, pulling you tighter as if he could swallow you whole. It's overwhelming, that hunger leashed by sheer will, leaving your lips tingling and raw when he finally pulls back with gleaming eyes. "Sweet," he rasps, licking his chops.
Jason the Toymaker
Jason's room buzzes with the quiet potential of half-made dolls, but all his focus narrows on you as he guides you down onto his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Just his hands, steady and warm, framing your face like you're the finest creation he's ever touched. His lips meet yours, gentle pressure blooming slow and deliberate, exploring with feather-light brushes that coax your lips open without demand.
The subtle warmth of his breath, the way his thumbs stroke your jaw in rhythm, kisses deepening through patient layers—lips parting, a hint of tongue tracing yours like unwinding a delicate mechanism. No frenzy, just this intimate unraveling, his body pressing close enough to feel your heartbeat. When he eases back, his soft gaze lingers.
Candy Pop
Candy wastes no time, hauling you close with a grin that promises trouble, his lips claiming yours in a rush of sticky heat. It's pure mess from the start—tongue diving deep, swirling with reckless abandon, his sharp canines grazing your lips until they tingle and swell. He nips playfully, then harder, drawing a gasp as his hands roam your sides greedily.
The kiss drags on sloppy and fervent, saliva mixing in wet slides. You end up breathless, lips bitten pink and slick, him chuckling low against your throat. "Good enough for ya?"
Tim Wright
Tim's touch is deliberate, callused fingers tilting your chin up as his lips brush yours—soft at first, a slow exploration that builds with measured breaths. He starts easy, mouth warm and unhurried, coaxing you open with patient presses, tongue slipping in just enough to tease without overwhelming. Every movement screams restraint as he deepens it fraction by fraction, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other steady on your waist.
It's intimate, consuming in its gentleness—the way he savors your taste, pulling back to murmur "You good?" before diving back in, lips molding perfectly to yours. Heat simmers under the control, leaving you melting when he finally eases away, thumb tracing your damp lips.
Brian Thomas
Brian eases you back against the pillows, his lips hovering teasingly close. "Nervous already?" he murmurs, voice low and amused, before sealing his mouth over yours in a languid kiss—soft, exploratory sweeps that make your pulse quicken. His hands frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he tilts for a better angle, tongue flicking lightly against yours in lazy circles.
He breaks it just to whisper "See? Not so scary," grinning against your lips before claiming them again, deeper now, nipping your bottom one with affectionate mockery. It's all loving jabs wrapped in heat—his body pressing close, kisses turning heated but controlled, drawing out every shiver until you're both smiling into it.
Clockwork
Natalie cups your face with both hands, her touch unexpectedly tender, thumbs tracing your jaw as she leans in. "Relax," she breathes, lips meeting yours in a steady, grounding press—warm and sure, no rush, just the slow build of her mouth moving against yours. It's intimate, her breath mingling with yours as she parts your lips gently, tongue sliding in with confident ease, exploring deep but controlled, like she's mapping every response.
Her fingers thread into your hair, holding you close without pulling, the kiss deepening into something sensual and unhurried—wet slides, soft sighs, her body arching just enough to press flush. She tastes faintly of mint and copper, pulling back only to nuzzle your nose, voice husky with "Better than I thought" as the gentleness lingers.
Jane the Killer
Jane doesn't hesitate, guiding you down with a hand at your nape, her lips crashing into yours in a kiss that's all controlled—firm, unyielding pressure that demands response without brutality. She tilts your head back, mouth claiming every inch, tongue delving deep with precise, sweeping strokes that leave you breathless. Yet it's laced with gentleness—her fingers stroking your hair soothingly, body protective over yours, softening the edges of her intensity.
Her breath hot against your skin as she murmurs "You're doing good" mid-kiss, pulling you tighter.
Nina the Killer
Nina's eyes sparkle as she snaps a Pocky between her teeth, straddling your lap on the bed. "Ready?" she giggles, leaning in—chocolate crumbling as your lips meet around the stick, nibbling closer in that classic game. It starts playful, breaths quickening with each inch, but when your mouths finally connect, it becomes sloppy—tongues tangling messily over candy remnants, her hands fisting your shirt weakly as she kisses you fierce and uncoordinated.
Laughter bubbles up mid-kiss, her teeth clacking yours lightly, smearing sweet mess across your lips before she dives back in, all eager heat and zero finesse. You both dissolve into giggles after, collapsing in a heap—her arms wrapping tight around you, nuzzling your neck as you cuddle close.
Syrinx
Regina's gaze softens as she draws you close on the bed, her fingers light and reverent on your cheeks, like she's afraid you'll vanish. "I want this right," she whispers, leaning in with zero mockery—just honest vulnerability. Her lips meet yours feather-soft, cool at first but warming fast, a simple press that lingers, building through patient brushes and sighs.
It's all about the intimacy of her molding into you, hands cradling your face as she tilts for deeper contact, her body pressing near without overwhelming. She explores with tender nips and slow glides, breath steady and shared, pulling back only to rest her forehead against yours. "Again?" she asks softly, holding you like you're her whole world.
Homicidal Liu
Liu holds your face in both hands, his eyes searching yours. "Is this okay?" he asks, voice low and earnest, before his lips touch yours—gentle as a promise, warm and enveloping in slow, deliberate presses. It's tender from the start, his mouth coaxing yours open with patient swipes, tongue venturing deeper only when you sigh into it.
His fingers thread softly into your hair, holding steady as the kiss builds—intimate, loving pulls that draw out every shiver, his body a warm anchor against yours. He checks in again, murmuring against your lips, before sealing them fervently but softly, hands never gripping too hard. When he pulls back, it's with a soft smile, thumb tracing your jaw. Pure, hellish gentleness.
Kate the Chaser
Kate's presence is all quiet intensity, her pale lips brushing yours in a steady claim—unrushed, controlled, like she's savoring this pause. She cups the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss with confident ease, mouth warm and insistent, tongue tracing yours in smooth, deliberate strokes that build heat without frenzy. Her body presses close, hips aligning as her free hand slides up your side, anchoring you.
The nips sting sweetly, her touch steadying any tremor. She breaks it slowly, lips hovering, voice a husky rasp. "More?" The steadiness lingers, turning practice into something almost primal yet safe.
