Horror Movie Slashers One-Shots and Headcanons (UNDER EDITING)

Leather and Chains (Main Cenobites/Reader)

There were four cenobites.

There was Butterball. He was an extremely large demon and had no hair and pale skin, much like the others. When I say large, I mean it. Butterball had multiple neck rolls and a large protruding stomach. Round sunglasses had been deeply embedded into his eye sockets and his eyes underneath, from my understanding, were sewn shut. I knew he couldn't see, but I never asked to what extent. His large belly was often exposed. Much like the other cenobites, he had an open wound. His was located on his stomach, pulled apart by hooks that were attached to his leather outfit.

Then there was Chatterer. Out of all the deformities of the cenobites, Chatterer was the more gruesome. Any other person would immediately run after seeing him. His skin appeared to be burned, and it twisted up his head. His eyes were nonexistent, or at least they appeared to be. Instead of eyes, there were two holes on his face where I imagine his eyes once were. His skin was not as pale as the others, and it was red and irritated in a lot of places. And let's not forget his mouth. His teeth were exposed and his lips were drawn back with metal hooks and wire. His lips were almost in the shape of a square. His gums glistened with blood all the time, much like the open wound on the back of his head. I had gotten used to kissing him on the cheek for obvious reasons. He didn't mind either. He could understand the reluctance.

DP was the third cenobite of the group. Over the years I had started to refer to her as DP. The initial name that she had been given in hell was nothing short of gross. Not to mention the fact that she didn't like to be addressed by it. So instead, I used the initials of the name she had been given. I understood why she didn't like her name, but I could also understand why it was given to her. Take one look at her throat and you'd understand. It was cut open. Pulled apart by a contraption that pushed out of her cheeks. Much like the others, she felt no pain from this laceration. Pain for them was entirely different from the pain that humans experienced. She also felt no pain when it came to the long screw that was pierced through the bridge of her nose. In an odd way, DP was extremely beautiful. Her skin was paper white with hints of blue in the lowest parts of her face. Her temples were deep and so were her eyes. For the most part, she was bald, but a couple of strands of blonde hair had survived her transformation in Hell. She looked the most human out of all of them. She definitely was more approachable at times. She was almost always the first one I went to when something was wrong.

Last but not least, there was Pinhead, the Hell Priest. His name was pretty much self-explanatory. Rows of small-headed pins were set deep in his head, sticking out pretty much everywhere. There were also rows of cuts that lined the nails. He was bald, much like the rest. And much like the rest, especially him, he was protective.

Honestly, protective is an understatement.

I had been in relationships before the cenobites where my partners were protective. The cenobites weren't just protective. They were rage-filled. If they suspected anyone even showed a slight interest in me, that person would be dead the next day. At first, it just seemed like a coincidence, but now it was obvious why they ended up dead.

That knowledge has been ringing in the back of my head for days as I approached my final year of college.

Normally, I just quietly worked through the school year. I barely talked to people unless I had to, I didn't go to parties, and I attempted to not draw any attention to myself. That was how college had gone until now. Now there's this guy. I can't even think of his name. Maybe it was Jacob? Jack? Who knows?

At first, I thought this guy in my advanced journalism class was just being friendly. But now, every day, this guy would come up with an excuse to sit near me in class and talk with me. Now he would show up to the same shop where I'd get lunch or seemingly be in the local library when I went to get books. The flirting had escalated to what I considered stalking. It was bad enough having my demonic partners breathing down my necks, but now I had this stranger from a class following me around everywhere. And it was only a matter of time before the demons would find out.