for creeptober day 7, can u write a non-con fic of Jeff the killer and an afab reader? 💕💕
Creeptober 2025: Day Seven
Yandere!Jeff the Killer x AFAB (Gen) Reader
CW: minor horror themes, stalking, blood, gore, death (not of Reader), etc
Jeff had never thought that he could think of anyone in a romantic sense. Since he was a child, he had been alone. Then, after his crimes, something in his mind had broken. He was broken beyond any kind of repair.
Yet, there you were. A bright smile always on your face when greeting customers at the bar you worked at. Luck had to be on his side, because why else would he have just happened by the bar when you were taking out the trash one night?
When your eyes met his, you gave him that smile. That bright, shining smile that are everything in the world seem like it had the potential to be alright for just a moment.
He hid his disfigured lower face with a mask, hoping to be more inconspicuous. No matter how hard he tried, makeup never covered the scars that still were slightly raised off his skin. After years, he finally had eyelids again, though it was due to medical intervention and threatening a doctor, but he didn’t want to scare you off.
“Hey, you get turned around and end up out here?” you asked him, leaning against the back door of the bar. He nodded, not trusting his voice. “Yeah, the Halloween decor kind of makes it confusing. I’ll let you back in so you don’t have to pay the door fees.”
Something he never thought would happen, happened. His heart skipped a beat. For the first time in years… he actually felt alive. He felt like a human being.
“Thanks,” he gruffed out, his voice rusty and hoarse from disuse.
After that, he started coming to the bar every night. The fake ID he stole, and the fact you put his fake name, Jeffery Lorena, on the VIP list so he wouldn’t have to pay the door fee, made it so he was seeing you almost every night.
One night he got there earlier than usual. That night, the idea of stalking you, watching you outside of the bar for even a moment was unbearable. He needed to be as close to you as possible immediately.
However, when he went inside, he saw a man leaning over the bar, brushing the hair away from your face. While you looked slightly uncomfortable, you didn’t hit his hand away, or even make the man move. It made Jeff’s blood boil.
That night, you didn’t see Jeff. Something about that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Since the two of you had met, you hadn’t gone a single night you worked without seeing him at least once. What you didn’t know, was that that man who had been flirting with you was in the bathroom, slowly being tortured to death.
Jeff was going to make this death his greatest spectacle yet. It took hours to do so properly, and draining the blood was a pain that he had never tried before. As the announcement was made that the bar was going to close in an hour, he washed his hands, climbing out the bathroom window.
You weren’t the one that found the man, but you saw the scene when a coworker screamed. It was too grotesque to explain, to describe, but it would never leave your mind. The man’s body, well, what was left of it, had been arranged in a morbid heart with an arrow going through it. The blood was smeared from the door being opened, and no one else seemed to notice it, but you saw it; your initials had been written in the man’s blood.
The police were useless. The bar was shut down for almost a month. During that time, you didn’t see Jeff, but he saw you. He saw you going to the store, hiding in your apartment, refusing to take your dog out in the dark. He saw everything you did.
As the investigation stalled due to lack of clues and suspects, the bar finally reopened. You went back to work. On that first day, when Jeff came in, you couldn’t help but smile. His familiar pale, mask covered face put you at ease.
“Hey. I was worried about you,” you said, siding him his drink and a straw.
Like always, he barely lifted the mask, so you couldn’t see his face as he pushed the straw up to sip. That night, he stuck you like glue, dropping bill after bill onto your station to keep your attention on him. He had never tipped that much before, but you weren’t complaining. His eyes shined in the neon lights of the bar as you spent the night chatting with him, only occasionally having to help another customer.
To him, it was proof that you loved him as much as he was obsessed with you. He couldn’t say whether or not the emotion he felt was really love, but he knew what obsession was. What it felt like. And this certainly did.
“It’s almost closing time. Want one last one?” you asked Jeff as you started to clean up the abandoned glasses along the bar.
“Yeah. Whatever your favorite it,” he told you, his eyes fixed on yours.
As you poured the simple shot, you couldn’t help but glance up at him. “Can I ask you something personal?”
His face brightened, and he sat a little straighter. Had he always been so tall? You suddenly felt dwarfed by him.
“What do you want to ask?”
This was it. You were finally taking and showing a real interest in him. He had been right. You wanted him as badly as he needed you.
“The mask… why do you wear it? I mean, you don’t take it off even to drink, but you can’t be too worried about getting sick ‘cause you come here almost every night we’re open,” you say, watching him use the straw even on the shot, hiding the lower half of his face.
“Accident as a kid. I’m self conscious,” he told a half truth, making your face soften.
“I’m sorry,” you said gently, but he shrugged.
“If you want, after work, I could show you what I really look like,” he offered, and despite yourself, you agreed.
Your coworkers teased you about you finally “taking in” your “lost puppy”. Everyone knew that Jeff was really on there for you, so you finally agreeing to see him outside the bar was a source of ridicule and friendly teasing. You brushed off the comments, telling everyone that it was just because you two had become friends.
After the bar closed, as everyone else walked to their cars, you and Jeff strolled to yours. He had let you know that he had actually taken the bus because he didn’t want to leave his car int eh bar parking lot over night. To you, that had seemed smart and responsible, so you agreed to drive him home so you could see his face. He had said that he was too nervous to let any of your coworkers see. He didn’t want them to treat him differently when he went in.
The drive to his apartment was causal and uneventful, like the conversations the two of you always had, and like what you knew of him, his apartment was small and unremarkable. You had no way of knowing that he had threatened killed a man and, with his stolen identity, bought the building so he would always have a place to stay, and space for victims if he ever needed to relocate them.
You weren’t sure what happened. One second you were chatting with Jeff as you followed him inside, and the next, you were sprawled out on his couch, moaning and whining as he teased your slit and circled your clit with his hand down your jeans.
“J-Jeff,” you whined, kicking out your feet weakly. You weren’t really complaining, but you were surprised.
“Shh, Y/N,” he rasped. You nodded weakly.
Hey, a hook up with a customer wasn’t your best idea, but what could it harm too much? Jeff was harmless.
Soon enough he was pushing down his jeans as you hurriedly pushed down yours. Your cunt was aching and dripping from him fingering you, but not pushing you over the edge. He easily pushed into your wetness. It wasn’t mind blowing, and he wasn’t massive, but fuck, it did feel good as he slide his length along your velvet walls.
His black hair stuck to his face with sweat as he bucked his hips to pull in and out of you. Strangely, he leaned in, as if trying to kiss you through the mask. The action made you laugh. Before he could stop you, you pulled down his mask so you could kiss him properly. You froze.
The scars stretched across his face, and all at once, you recognized him. The serial killer who kept managing to escape.
You grunted as he slammed harder into you, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours.
“Are you afraid now?”
“Don’t worry. I’d never hurt you. You’re mine.”
“I’ll always take care of you and protect you. Just like I protected you by killing that man.”
“You… you killed that man in the bar,” you whispered, horrific realization settling in as he continued to fill you repeatedly.
“Yes. He had no right to be that close to you. Your mine. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together,” his voice was a raspy whisper as he pushed deeper, nearly hitting your cervix, as he filled your cunt with his hot cum. As if, if he could impregnate you, you’d have no choice but to stay with him. Forever.
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