Not much to say, this is a random blurb for female!reader x Jeff the killer. I’ve been sick! But wanted to still at least post for you guys! Love you my little fireflies.
Your eyes flutter open, the house shrouded in the silent darkness of 3 AM. A shadow moves at the foot of your bed. Your heart lurches. A figure looms, hood covering most of his face . You can't see his eyes, but you feel them, cold and unyielding.
"Don't scream," he whispers, a low rumble that resonates through you. You bite down on your scream, your breath ragged. He steps closer, a knife glinting in his hand. Your body tenses, ready to run, ready to fight. But he doesn't advance further, just stands there, looking down at you.
"Why aren't you scared?" he asks, his voice a harsh rasp. You swallow, your mind racing. Your voice finds you, steady and calm.
He chuckles, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He's hesitant, uncertain. It's your turn to seize control. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. His face is unnerving, but his eyes... they're what hold you captive. Dark, intense, yet... curious.
"Put the knife down," you say, surprising even yourself. He hesitates, then does as you ask. It clatters onto the nightstand, a stark echo in the silence. He didn't come here to hurt you, not really.
"You shouldn't be here," you say, your voice softer. He takes another step closer, his gaze roaming over you. You're in your nightgown, your favorite one, soft and comfortable. Now, it feels sheer under his scrutiny.
"I know," he admits, his voice laced with regret. He's conflicted, you realize. He didn't come here to ravage, to kill. He came for... something else. You sit up, pulling your blanket around you like a shield. He watches, his breath hitching as you move.
"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
He takes a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he speaks, it's not what you expect. "You're too pretty to kill."
The words hang heavy between you, laced with a double meaning. You see it now, the lust in his eyes. He's been watching you, stalking you. Not to end your life, but to stake a claim. A thrill runs through you, unexpected and exhilarating.
"Is that why you're here?" you ask, your voice huskier than before. His nod is barely perceptible, but it's there.
“Reader” you say.. looking up and down at him.
"You should go," you say, your heart pounding. He should go, you know that. But your body has other ideas. You want him to stay, to touch you. You want him to take that hood off.
He hesitates, torn. Then, without a word, he reaches up and pulls off his hood. His face is revealed, strong jawline shadowed with stubble, dark eyes that burn into yours. You gasp softly at his raw, primal beauty. He's not the monster you thought, not really. He's a man, hungry and desperate.
"Why did you come here tonight?" you ask again, your voice laced with invitation.
His answer is a growl as he pounces, pushing you back onto the bed. Your blanket falls away, your nightgown barely covering you. He hovers above you, his gaze feasting on your body.
"Because I can't stand back any longer," he rasps, his voice gravel-rough. "Because you're fucking beautiful, and I want you."
Your body responds to his words, to his proximity. You arch against him, your nightgown riding up. His gaze follows the movement, lingering on the soft rise of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He swallows hard, his hands clenching on either side of you.
"Last chance," he grinds out, his jaw tense. " Tell me to leave."
But you don't. Instead, you reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. When he opens them again, there's a fire burning in their depths.
"I like pretty things," he says, his voice low. "And I like them broken."
Your heart leaps, a dark thrill coursing through you. You should be scared, you know that. But all you feel is a burning desire, hot and insistent. You want him to break you. You want him to use you.
"You can leave," you whisper, "but I don't want you to."
His growl rumbles through you as he crashes down, his lips finding yours in a punishing kiss. His hands roam your body, bruising in their intensity. You meet his passion, your nails digging into his back as you pull him closer.
He tears away from your lips, his breath ragged. "You should know," he says, his voice rough, "I don't make love. I fuck."
You meet his gaze, unafraid. "Then fuck me."
His growl is primal as he tears off your nightgown, the delicate fabric no match for his rough touch. You're bare to him, your body on display. He drinks you in, his eyes appreciative and hungry.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasps, his hands finding your breasts. He squeezes, his thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples. You gasp, arching into his touch.
He leans down, his tongue replacing his thumbs. He licks, he sucks, he bites. You're writhing beneath him, your hands tangled in his hair. He releases you with a final lick, moving down your body.
"You taste as good as you look," he says, his voice a low rumble. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart. You resist briefly, but his gaze, fierce and intense, holds you captive. Slowly, you comply.
He looks at you, his gaze dark and intense. Then he leans down, his mouth finding your core. His tongue delves in, exploring, tasting. You gasp, your hips jerking. He's relentless, his mouth working you into a frenzy.
Your orgasm builds quickly, his tongue hitting all the right spots. You're a mess of gasps and moans, your hands gripping his hair tightly. As you fall over the edge, you scream his name.
He lifts his head, licking his lips clean. You look down at him, your body slack with satisfaction. He smiles, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips.
"That was just the beginning," he promises.
He reaches for his belt, undoing it with jerky movements. You watch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. When he's finally free, his cock springing into view, you lick your lips. He groans, his cock twitching.
"Don't do that unless you're ready to be fucked," he warns.
You smile at him, challenging. "What if I am?"
His growl is instantaneous as he pounces, his body covering yours. He lines himself up and thrusts in hard, burying himself to the hilt. You gasp at the invasion, but it quickly turns into a moan as he starts to move.
He's rough, brutal even. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you. You meet him thrust for thrust, your body taking everything he gives and demanding more.
Your bed creaks beneath you, the rhythmic sound filling the room along with your gasps and moans. He leans down, his mouth finding yours. He kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock.
You're approaching the edge again, your body tightening. He feels it, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. He swallows your scream, his body tensing as he finds his release.
He collapses on top of you, his body heavy and spent. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. As your breathing returns to normal, he lifts his head, his gaze finding yours.
"Thank you," he says softly.
You smile at him, tracing his jawline again. "Now leave."
He hesitates, but he obeys. He rolls off you, pulling himself together. He picks up his mask, his knife, but he doesn't put them away. He looks at you one last time, his gaze lingering on your body.
"Goodbye," he says, his voice soft.
You don't reply, just watch as he slips out of your room, out of your house. You listen as his footsteps fade away, then you get up, locking the door behind him.
You climb back into bed, your body deliciously sore. You close your eyes, a smile on your lips. You'll see him again, you know that. But for now, it's just you and your memories.
And isn't that a pleasant thought to fall asleep to?
