A Little Warmth (Jeff the Killer x Reader) short story

chapter six

You stared at the mess of paint and blood on the walls and carpet. This was going to be hell cleaning up. You bent over and started picking up paintbrushes and napkins off the floor when you heard a scratch sound on your balcony.

You didn't have to turn your head when you heard the door slide open and low footsteps, you already knew it was him. Jeff entered and left your apartment as he pleased.

Turning your attention towards him you gave him a cheery smile. "Here to deliver my supplies?"

He nodded absentmindedly as his gaze wandered over the mess. He dropped a heavy, large duffel bag he had carried in with him. It fell with a heavy thud on the floor. You kneeled down and unzipped the bag. Once you fully opened the bag, you peered inside to see many smaller black trash bags, you could make out some of their contents by the outline.

Rolling up your sleeves you take a deep breath before you dig into the bag, ready to work.

You felt Jeff kneel next to you, "What'd you bring me this time?" You asked.

The plastic crinkled as you opened a bag, you could hear the liquid sloshing around inside. Ripping open the bag, dark blood flowed out, the metallic-like smell contaminated the air. The warm liquid oozed through the bag, soaking the carpet. Reaching into the blood, you pulled out a chunk of flesh. The piece of flesh you were holding was unrecognizable, it had been severely mutilated.

Holding it up, your eyebrow arched in question at Jeff. "What's this?"

"Ah, about that..." Jeff scooted in closer to you. "Sorry that the cut is so sloppy. There was blood leaking everywhere which made the hand slippery to cut. Especially since I was using a small knife."

He cast you a sideways glance and a sheepish smile.

An annoyed sigh escaped your lips as you placed the hand down on a tray.

"There's better stuff in here though." Jeff reached over to you to pick up the bigger, heavier bags.

As more bags were opened, and more severed limbs, organs, and body parts were taken out and placed on trays; an overpowering stench of blood filled the entire room.

Crimson, warm blood stained your clothes, droplets of it dripped down your hands and forearms as you held slippery organs and slick flesh. The slimy coating of the intestinal mucus leaked through the incisions Jeff had made. He boasted about this, saying that the jelly-like substance is what had kept the organs moist long enough for them to be brought to you.

After neatly arranging everything on trays, you placed them in a freezer. This would allow you time to prepare the canvas. The rigorous process of creating these paintings was tiring, but you could not run the risk of upsetting the affluent clients you had recently gained.

You did not question their strange interest in your paintings, after all, the initiative to create these paintings stemmed from your imagination.

You look down at the mess and notice your bloodstained hands, dry blood clings to your clothes. Feeling your skin crawl in disgust you turn to the kitchen sink to rinse it off, scrubbing off any trace of flesh.

Exhausted, you drag your feet back into the living room and collapse on the couch. Letting your gaze wander over to where Jeff is, you observe him wipe his knife clean. When he raises his head to look at you, he flinches some seeing your eyes watching him. He stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to do before he made his way over to you. He sat next to you on the couch and cleared his throat.

Although you didn't notice, he was fidgeting with the knife in his hands. He had spent the night prior tossing and turning unable to sleep. Throughout the moments he had spent with you, he had gone through a turmoil of emotions, and his thoughts had been consumed entirely by you.

His muscles tensed when you lightly brushed against his arm as you leaned back on the couch. Tired, you rested your head on his shoulder, unaware of the havoc it was causing inside of him. Within his heart, it was a whirlwind of emotions. It felt as if a thousand needles were digging into his skin, having him on the edge of his seat when he felt your sigh graze against his neck.

Trying to keep his body under control, he started bouncing his leg. He bit his lower lip hard until he drew blood. Sensing his anxiousness, you raise your head.

"Is everything okay?" No response.

He kept his gaze pinned straight ahead, avoiding to look at you. Knowing that if he did, he would lose the last of self-control he had. Extending out your arm, your hand reached out to forcefully turn his head towards you. Locking eyes with you, he became lost in your luring gaze.

He saw your eyes drop to his lips.

"Oh God."

His breathing quickened and it was such a strange thing for him.

Your reflexes acted faster than your judgement as you slowly dragged a thumb against his lips, wiping the blood off. Your finger slowly turned upwards to trace the scars, feeling the jagged lines. This just about pushed him over the edge as he lost all his senses and, snaking an arm around your waist, pulled you in.

It took you by surprise as he pressed his lips onto yours. He was crazed for your touch, placing his hands all over, he knew this was a desperate move but if it were a sin he would willingly take the punishment. You might as well have been poison but he didn't care because sure as hell you tasted like honey as he quickly became addicted to you.

You had him losing his mind, he couldn't compare this feeling to anything else. The adrenaline rush he felt right now wasn't the same as when he ruthlessly murdered his victims. Nothing could compare to the thrill of having his mind fogging as he lost his composure. His kiss had been desperate at first but then slowed, taking the time to drink you in. He became captivated by your soft caresses, it felt as if his body was burning with your touches. In his heart and mind, he begged for this to never stop.

Even if it were detrimental to his health, he would rather be enamored of your love and desire if it meant he would feel this little sensation of warmth in the cold and touch-starved world he grew up in.