Jeff T.K NSFW Hc's

Jeff t.K NSFW hc's

Knife play Smacks the ever-loving shit out of you Marks you Carves his name or initials into your thighs or back, sometimes your ass Hand jobs Will make you beg Prefers to recieve head Edge lord (two in one joke) Will not let you cum That, or he'll overstimulate Spits in you or on you Says shut like "you're such a good fucking slut for me," or "Take it, whore, I know that you can" Can and will fuck you anywhere He especially loves doing it when yall can get caught Hickeys and bite marks

Creeps favorite drinks

Jeff- Just drinks a shit ton of energy drinks and soda. Like, he drinks at least three monsters a week but still has okay teeth. Well, as 'okay' as they can be while you're a homicidal young adult. (aesthetic warning) His favorite flavors are the original, aussie lemonade, pipeline punch, and orange dreamsicle

E.J-Water. He can only drink water because it's one of the very few things that still taste good to him. Most things that he used to eat and drink aren't the same (they have a bad taste now) and he can eat them but won't.

Liu-Tea, probably. Tea with sugar, lots of sugar, but no milk. He says it tastes the same with or without milk.

Helen/Bloody Painter-Water and tea. Coffee every once in a while, but that's only a palate cleanser for when he's getting burnt out, and he won't finish it. His water has to be freezing and his tea scorching. (same bro)

Jane-Secretly likes Alani energy drinks but feels like it's something she has in common with Jeff, so she hides her guilty pleasure. Only drinks water.

L.J-Apple juice, the 'Little Hug' fruit barrel drinks, blood of children, chocolate milk, lemonade, etc. Just really childish, innocent drinks that a young kid would drink.

Brian/Hoodie-Black coffee and milk. He's weird, okay? Is it really that bad to drink milk by itself? Exactly. He might also drink some protein shakes if he's feeling exotic.

Tim/Masky-Once again, black coffee and black tea. HE'S WEIRD. He's just a funky little dude, okay? A funky little dude with homicidal tendencies that could kill you and would without a second thought, okay? Alright. Has one of those coffee pots that you can set the timer for, so it makes it at a special time for him.

BEN-Technically, doesn't need to drink anything, but he drinks energy drinks and protein shakes because he likes how they taste. Also, drinks so many energy drinks that they don't give him energy anymore, and he says he 'drinks them for the flavor'. lmao same

Toby-Chocolate milk. He loves chocolate milk because it makes him feel more innocent like he never had a fucked childhood. It just hits DiFfErEnT,

Apathetic-Misplaced

Rounding the corner, you treaded further into the kitchen, urging not to wake your mother. It was hard enough to get her to sleep, let alone keep her like that. Your toe stubbed slightly against the bottom of the kitchen counter as you reached for the cabinet with the mugs.

Oddly, as you searched for your favorite one, it seemed to be gone. Having been sure you put it up with the load of dishes you'd done yesterday, you checked once again, not doubting yourself to have missed it in the dim light the early winter mornings would provide. 

Looking back down, annoyed, you saw it. Resting a foot away, sat next to the sugar and spoon, was the mug, a teabag already placed inside. This week had been stressful, you chopped the appearance simply to a simply forgotten task. 

You smiled to yourself, taking the cup in your hand and heading to the stovetop. Placing the kettle on the heating burner, you waited patiently on your phone, scrolling, disinterested in what your friends had done over the weekend. 

Your heart clenched at a certain sight; it was a picture of Nina, a girl you thought would live forever. Alas, she's gone now. Not necessarily dead but missing. So, no matter how you look at it, she's gone. 

All you truly craved was closure. 

Resting your phone face down, you hopped up as the kettle began to scream. Pulling it from the burner, you placed it on a different one, waiting a still moment before beginning to pour the boiling water into the mug. 

After you did, you slowly sipped on the scalding liquid, tossing your head back as you mentally psyched yourself up to get through the day. It wouldn't be too bad, working at a little gas station, if you weren't fifteen miles from the musty place. 

You walked slowly to your bedroom, socks scuffling against the kitchen's hardwood floor. You slipped off the flimsy night shirt you'd been wearing changing into a new bra and shirt. Not much of a shirt, really, more like a big sweater. It was (f/c) and knit tightly. Black leggings to match, you supposed.

It was winter. You were behind a counter most of your day. Who cares what you wore? 

Going back into the kitchen, deciding you'd eat before work, meaning you didn't have to come out from behind the counter and be ogled at by creeps without morals. Yeah, it was better to eat at home.

Gliding on your shoes, you tied the laces up neatly. As you headed back into the kitchen, another odd sight struck you. The sugar had been returned to its spot; the spoon was in the sink. Knitting your eyebrows together, you figured, once again, that it was just a subconscious act of yours. 

I do this every morning, so it's routine of me to put it away, you told yourself. But as the morning's occurrences replayed, your mind went, instead, to worst-case scenarios. Once again, rationality got the better of you, and your mind decided you had forgotten; done it without a second thought. 

But you didn't remember the part where you forced yourself to keep quiet for your mother's sake. 

It was early, too early, to be awake for work. I mean, you worked nights. But groceries were a necessity, and starving wasn't on your mind lately. Not yet. Grabbing your wallet and phone, you were on your way out the door. 

Clambering into the cold car, you turned on the heat, but without time to waste, you drove off. You played a few songs on your way, preferring the familiar music to the silence. As you pulled up to the Walmart, you climbed out again. 

Opening the notes app on your phone, you checked the list again, unsure of what you needed. "Milk, eggs, butter, toilet paper, shampoo." you read. Nodding to yourself, you walked inside, grabbing a rattling cart from the hoard. First, you made your way to the dairy, grabbing the milk, eggs, and butter, and placing them in the bottom of the rattly cart.

Next, you walked to the aisles with all the hygiene products. Grabbing your usual brand of shampoo and toilet paper, you made your way to the checkout. At the register, you grabbed a pack of gum. Minute but nice. 

The man in front of you quickly had his minimal number of items scanned, but he didn't tread too far, visibly distracted by something on his yellow hoodie. He was tall, with disheveled light brown hair, and pale. very pale; he looked sickly. As the cashier scanned your items, the dead look on her face not softened, she read your total. "Fifteen-eighty-two," she mumbled. Opening your wallet, you searched in fear for your card.

As your mind began to whirl and sway, a voice spoke up. You only had so much cash on you; not enough to pay the due, however. Your shaky hand brought her the ten dollars you had in cash, but she continued staring at you, waiting. "I'll cover it," the man offered. "Oh, no. You don't have to-" you assured, quickly being cut off as he handed the cashier the exact change. 

"Thank you so much, sir," you thanked. "It's human kindness," he joked. "Still, thank you." you sighed, thankful. "Keep yourself safe," he said, walking away, off into the crowd of people, many shorter than him. He headed in the opposite direction that you were going, much to your disappointment.

It would have been nice to know his name, you thought. Dawdling around the flooded store, you glanced around, bored. You thought about how pale he was. Tired of ogling at items you'll never buy, or afford, you left.

You smiled to yourself at the sweet interaction, not having experienced a true act of human decency in so long. Living away from everyone in the countryside could do that to someone - make you a recluse-, but you didn't really mind. 

Striding back to your car, you placed your bags of groceries, finding yourself questionably searching for the man, even without realizing it. Turning over the ignition in the car, you drove off, pulling onto the foggy road. As the road cleared, leaving you nearly alone, aside from the few cabins and cars, you noticed one thing in particular: a beat-up, blue pickup truck behind you.

Its paint chipped, revealing the rusty color beneath the facade of color. The headlights were still on, which was fair, considering the fact it was dark, still. That's winter, you thought. Heart in your throat, you sped up, only to notice how their speed was in sync with yours; they sped as you did, and slowed as you did.

As you pulled into your driveway, breaths of relief flooded out of your lungs, watching as the truck drove on, the driver you didn't see. Silently entering the home, you brought in the bags, smiling still at the man's kindness. 

After you unpacked the groceries, you went to check on your mother once again. She was fine. Now, sleep was in your mind. Falling, exhausted, into your bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, falling asleep. 

As your eyes flickered open, the smell of coffee greeted you. Smiling to yourself, you made your quiet way to the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Hi, Mom," you greeted. "Hey, hon," she replied, not meeting your eyes as she washed the dishes from this morning. "Hey, (y/n)?" she said again. You hummed lowly.

"Try not to use so many dishes when you make your tea, okay?" she muttered. "I only used one this morning." you denied. "Well, there are two cups in the sink, and it doesn't make sense." she replied. "Maybe you just forgot; I know you're stressed lately," she whispered. "I guess," you agreed.

"Well, it's almost time for you to get ready, and I made some coffee for you," she said. "I know," you sighed.

Sluggishly walking back to your room, you slipped on a white shirt, staying in the same undergarments as this morning, feeling it dumb to change. With a black zip-up hoodie over leggings, simple shoes, and your (h/c) (h/l) brushed. 

No makeup needed. 

You grabbed the thermos that'd been set on the counter and poured your coffee into it, adding the milk and sugar. This time, you put the sugar and spoon away. Fiddling with the lid, you finally fit it tight to the bottle, sighing deeply as you left. But not before telling your mother you loved her.

Phone, keys, thermos, wallet. That's all you needed. As you arrived, you pulled up, checking your wallet for a hair tie. Oddly, and to your horror, your card was in its usual spot. Heart in your throat, you took a hair tie out, assuming your coworker would ask for one before she went on her delivery trips. 

You were right. 

"Hey, do you have a hair tie?" she asked, pulling her ginger hair into a hold with her hand. Wordlessly, you handed it to her, walking behind the counter after tying your apron on. You leaned against the counter, waiting, as a man walked in. His hair was a deep, rich brown, falling above his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they glanced at you, brown and tired. Bags were under them, falling into a sullen frown as you looked his face over. 

He smiled quickly, turning away as he walked the aisles of the gas station, silent, almost. He made no sound when he walked, and you wondered how such a tall, built man could be so utterly stealthy. He opened a freezer in the back, pulling out a drink. You couldn't quite see what it was until he stepped into another aisle; the aisle with chips. 

A bag rustled and he walked back to you. Placing the items on the counter, you realized that it was alcohol and some plain potato chips. "ID?" you requested. He handed you a small, plastic card. Taking it in your hand, you examined it. "What's your birthday?" you asked.

Looking closer at the ID, you realized that his name was Timothy, but his last name you didn't see, not before he answered, making you gaze back at him. He answered, holding his hand out expectantly. You handed him his ID and scanned his items. "Have a nice day, sir," you said, smiling as he walked off wordlessly. 

The bell rang as he left. 

Another hour or so passed by, and only a handful of interactions, left you alone with your thoughts, the buzzing of the lights, and the low, humming music from the store. You walked to the back of the store, grabbing a drink, water. 

Putting the money in the register, you began to drink slowly, nearly gagging and spitting up the water as a figure towered over you. "Hi, I'm sorry. You scared the life out of me!" you joked, coughing. "Oh, I'm s-sorry," they apologized. Noticeably, they had a stutter. 

"It's fine; you're just really quiet," you laughed again, trying to keep the mood light, despite his depressing, sorry tone. You coughed again, finally looking up at him. He had soft brown hair, covering his eyes slightly. Eyes a soft, shimmery green, though still with a sharpness. Alert.

A mask covered most of his face, obscuring your view. He was thin, you could tell, despite the large beige, brown, white, and blue hoodie he wore. "Is there anything I can do for you?" perking up, he looked at you. Without words, he walked to the back of the store. Grabbing a chocolate milk, he placed it on the counter, hands clad in what you assumed to be leather. "That all?" you checked.

He nodded wordlessly, mask shifting, as if he were chewing on his cheek. Ringing him up, "A dollar and eighty-nine cents, please," you requested.

He fished out some money and planted it on the counter, and you gave him the milk. "Thank you, have a nice day!" You chirped.

He walked out with a "you, too" and nothing else; not even a thumbs up.

--

Hours passed with nothing more than interactions and nearly slamming your head into the counter as you accidentally drifted off.

Now, it was time to go home. You waited for your coworker, and left when she got there. "Bye," she shouted. Waving, you left.

-- Once you arrived home, the rooms silent, you walked to the kitchen. There was a steaming mug of coffee, a sticky note placed on its side. "Just how you like it!" With a smiling face at the end. You smirked at the gesture, taking a small sip. And, indeed, it was just how you liked it.

Honestly, you hadn't even figured that your mother paid attention while you were around her. Heading back to your room, you found that your laundry was already folded on the bed.

"That's sweet, " you thought. Hanging your clothes and putting them into the drawers, you noticed another note. "This week will be full of surprises!" It read, the same handwriting as the note on the mug.

You put the clothes away correctly, lying disc on the clear bed. Before you feel asleep, you decided a shower was needed. As you entered the bathroom, you peeled off your clothes, strong into the scalding water.

It felt good against your cold skin, though. As you reached for your soap, you realized it was small and used up. Soon, you'd have to buy more. After washing your hair and body, you clambered out, wrapping a towel around yourself.

Falling back into your bed, you didn't bother to change. It's not like you had anywhere to be; not for a while, anyway. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you fell asleep.

--

A knock at your door awoke you, making your eyes spring open and your body jolt up. "Mom?" You questioned. No answer. "Mom?" You repeated, louder than before.

Opening the door, still in your towel, your heart dropped, but your grip on the cloth didn't. Thankfully. There stood a tall man, at least six foot, dressed in a mustard colored hoodie, denim pants, and steel-toe boots.

But the worst part, you were sure, was what state down. Where his face should be, instead, a black mask with two circles. Eyes. And one upside down U. A frown.

Your words caught in your throat as you tried to choke something, anything, out. His breath was muffled against the mask, and would have been falling on top of your head if not for the cloth.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up, still so scared. "What do you want?" You choked out. Without speaking, he shoved past you, walking to the corner of your room.

He simply snatched your little collection of sticky notes, holding them up to you. Pointing at the second one you'd received, the one about the surprising week, and tapped it lightly, mask shifting slightly.

You assumed he was smiling.

Masky/Tim NSFW hc's

Has a collar. Will use said collar Choking your ass as he fucks you from behind Will put his fingers in your mouth to stretch it from behind No foreplay You take his cock When he wants, when you want Didn't matter to him Anywhere, anytime, by any means Bro lives for head Give him head Praise him about how good he feels How deep he is He will fucking melt Let him cum in you He loves watching his cum drip out of you as you drool

I returned to my dorm, dreading the thought of dealing with Michael and his dumbass attitude. I walked in and set my books on the kitchen counter and then walked to the fridge. I grabbed a beer and sat on the couch. 

A door to the side of me creaked open and I let out a deep sigh, "Here we go again." I thought. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the last beer from the fridge. "Damnit, Michael! Was that the last beer?!" I yelled. 

He nodded and gave a shit-eating smirk while opening the beer and chugging it. He finished the beer and crumbled it; he threw it at me and chuckled. "Michael, you dick!" I yelled. He flipped me off and went back to his room. 

After about an hour of letting my anger bubble up, I decided to go retaliate. I got up and went to his door. I pushed it open and then I stopped. All he had was a towel around his waist. I felt my face get hot and a shiver go down my spine. He smirked.

"What are you staring at?" he asked, walking closer. "I uh-" 

I just stuttered out some words and sounds, trying to keep my composure. I couldn't. I mean looking at him I just felt something. His sun-kissed skin was dripping with hot water and his hair stuck to his face. His toned stomach was exposed, and his lower half was covered by a thin piece of cloth. I subconsciously bit my lip. 

He was right in front of me. He bent down, "Staring isn't polite, darling." he taunted. I just nodded and looked him up and down. "What did I just say?" he rhetorically asked, taking my hands and pinning them to the wall. "D-don't stare..." I answered. "Good girl..." he praised. 

He lowered his head and put it to my neck. "I want everyone to see how you submit so well to me."

He began to kiss and suck on my neck, leaving dark purple bruises all over. I let out a small whine and he slid his hand up to my neck and squeezed it; it left a red mark. He moved his lips from my neck to mine and began to kiss me. He pulled away for a second, regaining his breath, and then went right back. 

"You're so beautiful." he praised. I let out another small whine and began to claw into his back. He let out a groan and this made me crazy. He lifted me and carried me to his bed. He threw me down and crawled on top. "So pretty...pretty...pretty...pretty..." he repeated. He stopped kissing me and lifted his head. 

He stood up and walked to his dresser, he opened it and pulled out a collar. It was black and had metallically purple spikes. He came back over and put it on my neck, it was constricting. I whimpered again. "Too tight?" I nodded. He loosened the collar and buckled it one last time. 

He took his hand and slid it into my pants, ripping them off in a clean swipe. He looked down at me, good thing I had worn lace?

He got red and whispered some swears under his breath as he held my sides. He took his index finger and rubbed it up and down my slit, I shivered and looked up at him. 

He moved his hands under my shirt and up to my breasts, he grabbed them and squeezed them ever so slightly. I grabbed his hand and moved it to my neck. He smiled and began to squeeze it, I smiled back. He massaged my clit through my panties. "So wet, just for me? I'm flattered." He moved my underwear to the side, then took his finger, and rubbed my clit. I bit my lip slightly.

Abruptly, he stopped and aggressively shoved it in. I grabbed his arm and dug my nails in. He covered my mouth to keep me quiet. It hurt a little but after he went in and out a few times it began to feel euphoric. I never wanted it to stop. 

He put another finger in, and another. "Fuck!" I screamed. He moved his fingers in and out aggressively. I nearly screamed. I felt a shiver go down my spine, and my back arched. Right before I came, he sped up and curled his fingers inside of me. I felt myself release onto his hand. He pulled his fingers out and spread them, looking at the discharge that had covered his hands. He licked them until they were clean. 

He looked back down at me, "So good." he praised. "Yes, so good." I agreed. My chest was going up and down, I had never felt something so painful yet pleasureful. "Again." I demanded. He shrugged and smiled. "Alright," he said, tearing off the towel he had been wearing loosely around his waist. 

Resting on my elbows, I looked up. My eyes widened and my heart sped up as he revealed his massive cock. He smiled. This motherfucker knew he was big, he knew. I smiled and sat up, grabbing his sides and pushing him onto the bed. He looked surprised, yet happy. 

I spat on his cock before putting an inch or two in my mouth. "Don't tease, dear." he begged. "Not now." he grabbed my hair and removed my head from his cock. He went to his dresser and pulled out a leash. He clipped it onto the collar he had put on me. 

He grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at him. "Choke bitch." he commanded. I nodded and put about three inches in. He grabbed my head and shoved the rest of him down my throat, I gagged and felt tears stream down my cheeks. He groaned and threw his head back. I bobbed my head back and forth, choking and desperately trying to fit it all. 

A thick, warm substance filled the back of my throat, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. It was painful and agonizing but I wanted it, I love how it hurts. He grabbed the sheets and tried to beg for me to stop but all he did was stutter over his words and moan pathetically. 

The warm substance filled my throat once again. I finally removed his cock from my throat and stood up. He stuttered over his words once again. He waited for a minute before grabbing a massage gun from his closet. He walked back over and turned it on, smiling sadistically.  

He put it near your entrance and increased the speed. Gripping the sheets, I screamed. "M-Michael!" I screamed. "Say it again." he demanded. "Michael!" I screamed. "That's right." he praised again. He pushed the machine further in and I felt my back arching and my eyes rolling into the back of my head. 

I felt myself self-release all over the machine. He didn't stop, this was my payback for earlier. My legs started to ache and quiver. He didn't stop even after my back arched and my legs were tired, he went in and out. He stopped with the machine and shoved his dick in me.

I felt my hole stretch around his massive cock. He bent down and let me grab onto his back or his hair, just whatever I could get my hands on. I screamed his name again and he groaned out a praise. "Good girl." he groaned out, between curses and grunts. 

He left more and more hickeys on my neck. 

After another hour of being completely dominated and destroyed, he finally came, and I felt the warm, thick liquid seep out of me. I checked the time, it was 7 AM. I had to rush out of his room and to my class, sprinting across campus and to my lecture. Surprisingly, I got there early. Michael arrived around five minutes after me. 

Only a few kids were in the room, most of them were smoking or reading. I just sat and put my head down. The teacher always entered the class at the latest, so all the kids were already in the room by the time he came in too. 

I had been sitting for a while before I heard the all-too-familiar sound of heels on the wooden floors of the classroom. "Fuck..." I murmured. It was Olivia Rogers. This bitch had been bullying me since grade school.  Michael had sat right next to me, why wouldn't he have? He immediately went to sleep. 

Olivia walked up to me and started her shit. "Ooh~" she taunted. "I see you finally have Maxwell a chance!" she jeered. I just rolled my eyes; she had commented on the state of my bruised neck. Maxwell McCann had liked me since kindergarten, he wasn't a bad guy, just weird and ugly. He also smelled on the account of him being shoved into the trashcans by the 'popular kids'.

"Fuck off," I said, laying my head back down on the desk. She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the podium where Mr. Greg usually stood. "Hey everybody!" she yelled. "Look at Rei! She finally gave ol' Maxy a chance!" she mocked. 

At this point, everyone was in class and tears were rolling down my cheeks and my head hurt from her pulling my hair. "Look at her neck!" she screamed. People were laughing and I was crying. I closed my eyes and tried to drown out her voice but that seemed to make it worse. 

A voice stood out from the crowd, Michael's.

"Actually, Olivia..." he stopped and started to laugh. "She gave me a chance. So why don't you fuck off and give me my girlfriend back." he said, his tone Icy and stale. He was a dick but even I was scared. "Mikey! No, I'm sorry. I love you!" she begged. He pulled me away and sat me on my feet, passionately kissing me in front of her. "Looks like nobody knew you were mine, guess we'll have to get some more proof." he suggested, tapping at the marks on my neck. I nodded and smiled as he lifted me up and back to our seats, setting me on his lap instead. 

"I'm gonna make you cry like that." he threatened. I moaned into his ear and massaged his crotch. "Don't threaten me with a good time." I retorted. He laughed nervously and grabbed my waist, pulling me into a violent kiss as Olivia watched. 

"I love you."

"I love you too." 

(I WROTE THIS MONTHS AGO; I PROMISE I'VE IMPROVED) (IT'S SO BAD I KNOW)

Bloody Painter/Helen Otis NSFW hc's

Groaning and loud ass breathing Any position Sensual Will take his time Loves stuffing you full with cum Isn't into giving oral Isn't into recieving, either He likes things slow and calm If you do give him head, then it's foreplay And only foreplay But he does like the look you give him while he's face fucking you, though Can be rough Prefers to be gentle Finds sex to be an art Art takes time He will try and has tried everything with you Not much of a sex drive without you Doesn't like to solo masterbate Somnophilia Might beg Has big puppy eyes when he wants to try something Owns handcuffs They are black and soft Says things like "Your body is so beautiful, " or "Let me fucking fill you up," bc he just slays like that Orgasm. Control Whether it's overstim or edging, he has control Unless you're domming Will cry is you edge him too much Almost no hair Does have a serial killer fucking happy trail It's his hair color