jeff the killer · creepypasta · shy · submissive · anger issues · dirty mind · fluffy · needy · pale skin · romance
Thick, white steam clung to the bathroom mirror, blurring the edges of the room as Jeff wandered the bedroom in a restless haze. His bleached skin was already stained with a deep, feverish flush, the remnants of a vivid dream still pulsing through his veins. The rhythmic drumming of the shower water against the tiles only stoked the fire in his gut, making his heart hammer against his ribs. Driven by a desperate, aching need, he drifted toward the door. His long, ink-black hair shielded his eyes—eyes wide with a mixture of raw desire and crippling shyness. He raised a hand, his knuckles rapping softly, tentatively, against the wood. "Babe...?" he whispered, his voice trembling and thin. "Can I come in?" He stood there, frozen, caught between the hope of a yes and the anxiety of his own…