DELIRIOUS - slashers x reader

prologue

!!!!!!!!

TW! READ THIS!!! This, being a SLASHER x reader, will contain violent and (potential) sexual themes such as (of course,) murder, STRONG language, cannibalism, assault, detailed descriptions of gore, panic attacks, self-harm, (mentions and attempts of) suicide, (potential and or mentions of) sexual assault, (potential and or mentions of) smut, (mentions of) necrophilia, etc. Continue with caution and take this as your first and final warning. And in AO3 terms, THE DOVE IS DEAD! DO NOT EAT THIS DOVE!!! thank you for reading! (reader stays gender-neutral) <3

!!!!!!!!

slashers that will be added:

Michael Myers (2007 version), Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger (no, not the remake where he is a pedophile), Bubba Sawyer, Chop-Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Asa Emory (the collector), Ghostface (DBD version), Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire, Chucky, Tiffany Valentine, Glen/Glenda (all 3 as their doll versions), Art the Clown, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Harry Warden, Leslie Vernon, Carrie, and any other slashers if requested. Yes, a lot, I know, so please don't be disappointed if certain characters show up more than others and/or earlier than others! I will try to keep everyone in character as much to my ability! And again, thanks for reading :)

----------

The gun trembles in your hand, wet, salty tears rolling down your cheek. You let out an elongated whine as it morphs into a cry, sobbing. Oh, how badly you wanted to pull the trigger, but your body wouldn't let you. You couldn't, no. Not yet. You tighten your grip on the trigger, your finger sweating as the gun begins to slip. A trail of saliva had connected to the gun as you pulled it from your mouth. You let out a thin groan as you let your arm lay limp, the gun slipping out of your grasp and onto the floor. You held your head down, sinking into your thoughts.

"Why? Why couldn't you just pull the trigger?! You're pathetic," Your thoughts spat at you, "So fragile, so feeble, and oh, so utterly pathetic!" You let out a pained wail as your legs give out, falling to the laminate wood flooring. You could feel the blood rushed to your knees, bruising already. You curl up into the corner and hold your knees to your chest, mourning loudly. You grip your legs, nails digging into your skin, drawing blood. You bite your lower lip roughly, in a desperate attempt to feel something -anything- at the moment. Whimpers and whines escape your quivering lips as you grip and pull at clumps of your hair, cries turning into growls as your whole body tenses up. You let out a shallow scream as you use the wall for support and pull up your weak, shaking body.

You stumble around the dirty, cramped apartment as you dart your eyes to the jackknife on the table. You take it into your trembling hands and grip it hard, your fists turning a slightly paler shade at your tightening grasp. You needed to let your pain out one way or another.

You fiddle with the lock and growl lowly at it before finally getting your door open. You don't bother to close it, and instead eagerly eye around for anything that moves. You glance at the small shrub next to your neighbor's door and dart to their door, knocking on it and ringing the doorbell frantically. You kept knocking and knocking until you heard your neighbor shuffle with the locks. You stare at the door fiercely, waiting for it to open. "Just a teensy-weensy little bit! I need to get in! Now! Now, now, NOW!" Your thoughts echoed against your skull harshly. In return you give short, shallow breaths as you grip the pocketknife harder, cold sweat of anticipation dripping down your neck. A desperate mutter exits you as the door cracks open.

"(Name)? What are you doing here this late at-" You cut her off as you slam your body against the door, pushing her down as she screams. It goes short-lived as you crawl atop her struggling body and open the knife, taking it behind your head before swinging it down, directly through her skull. The crimson blood stains the knife and her scream halts, turning into gags and whimpers before she stops moving. You pull the knife out and stab it into her a few more times before getting up and closing the door. You stumble through the house, not bothering to turn on any lights or to be quiet. You pressed your hand softly against the bedroom door, where her husband lay, awoken from his slumber at his wife's short yet desperate scream.

You pant loudly before barging into the room and colliding your body with the man's. He grunts at your weight atop his frail, old body, before ultimately meeting his fate at the end of your blade. You stab him mercilessly, despite him having been long gone at the swift slice at his neck. Blood had begun to pool at his mouth as his wide, dead eyes stared nowhere. Your eyes water as you let out whimpers, letting go of the knife which had found itself buried deep beneath his skull. You take your hands and weakly wrap them around his neck. Your clothes were wet with blood and your eyes were dilated largely. You shake the man roughly, his limp body following the controls of your hands. His blood spills out his mouth and down his body, staining your hands. Your body shudders as you let go of his neck and drag your already red-stained hands along his wet and increasingly cooling liquid. Your hand trembles as you bring it up to your face, taking in the scent of his rusty blood. You bring your hand to your mouth as you pause for a moment, taking your tongue and dragging it along the whole of your hand, closing your eyes as the metal-y, salty taste embeds itself into your tastebuds. Your hairs stand on edge as your eyes widen, your pupils shrinking for a moment before growing back to their large size in the pale dark room. You look back at the body again before ripping your knife from his skull and cutting a slab of his flesh, shoving it into your mouth as you climb off him.

As you make your way back to their door, you creep the shiny blade against your tongue, letting out a satisfied sigh as chunks of his gore stick to your saliva. After you licked the knife clean, you stepped over the now decaying body of the woman whom you had just killed. But your hunger for pain wasn't satisfied, no... You needed more.

Your breath began to quicken again as you pulled open the door, not caring to close it, and dashed to your other neighbor's house, containing a couple of fraternity boys living together. You grasp at the doorknob, but, ugh! Locked. That's no fun... You grunt and take your knife to the keyhole and begin to stab and wiggle into it as an attempt -a poor one, but an attempt nonetheless- to unlock the door. You grumble and begin to abuse the door as you did to your other neighbor's door and smile widely as the locks are fiddled with and the doorknob twists. "Open the door! Open the fucking door you worthless, insignificant, miserable, bitchy fucking frats!" Your thoughts shouted at you, making you clench your jaw and grip the knife tighter.

This time you didn't give them even a second to utter a word before pouncing on them, piercing your blade into any flesh of theirs you could find. You growl as your knife punctures into the long-dead corpse, your thoughts screaming into your ears.

"Yes, yes, yes! Ahaha! Kill those whiney bitches! Go, go get the others! NOW, fuckface!" The voices rang and vibrated in and against your skull, causing a small stagger in your step as everything grew hazy. Well, hazy-er, as if it wasn't enough already... You stumble around like a madman as you swing your blade all around you, trying to stab anything and everything that would come into your sight. Your eyes grow red and irritated, and your throat aches. You collapse onto the floor, yet continue to swing your arm around. You couldn't tell if the loud blaring was your voices or their screams. Turns out it was neither.