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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years

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"How Humiliating." Freddy Kreuger X AFAB! Reader. A Commission.

Well hello, hello, hello! Another commission down! This time a little Freddy moment for @soar737, thank you so much for commissioning me! This was super fun to do, some fearplay, knifeplay, bloodplay, humiliation and a lotta swearing all rolled up together! Shout out to Mr.Bex for the help with this classic dream setup, dunno why I didn’t do something with it sooner. I got permission to edit this a little to share with the rest of you and here it is! I hope you all enjoy it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3K. Freddy Krueger X AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Humiliation. Swearing. Fearplay. Knifeplay. Bloodplay. Exhibitionism. Control. Restraints. Dirty Talk. Cunillingus. Spanking. Vaginal Sex. Taunting. Mocking. Teasing. Freddy Being A Bastard As Per Usual. Reader Plays Hard To Get. Reader Is A Freak Tho.

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The kind of person that you were is much more common than one might be led to believe. Someone who is shy on the outside, a little soft spoken, not quite what one might call socially confident, but deep down? On the inside? In the space between your ears, in the dark and quiet corners of your mind, late at night? You were anything but shy. You had so much that you wished for, things that you craved, were desperate for.

You’d always kind of been that way.

Always had wanted more, lost in your head, desiring things that you arguably shouldn’t.

You’d hear from people close to you and from the media in general that the things you wanted, harshness, coldness, violence, depraved things, were not typical. Those were not things someone like you should want. You should want kindness and warmth, tender affection, and sure while you could see some of the abstract appeal of that, when it was eventually applied to him? It never clicked or made sense.

When it came to him, you wanted for nothing but harshness, just as you always had. You wanted him. The introduction and the chase were not how they usually were with others, not like you would know that. No, he picked you based off of those awful fantasies of yours.

Sometimes when looking for a new plaything he would pick through the consciousness of dreaming individuals, flipping through them with a flick of his blades with an almost cavalierness to it. He’d do that until something, or rather someone, caught his eye, piqued his interest. And oh you?

You really made him take notice.

Multiple fantasies would permeate your nights. Thoughts of doing things in as many compromising positions as possible, exposed, on display, unashamed as you indulged in as much pleasure as your body would physically be able to take. More than just that though, you also had a penchant for pain. You wanted to be hurt along with the pleasure. Some lover, usually faceless, who it was didn’t matter, all that mattered was what they made you feel, holding a knife to your body as they rutted into you. Tracing your curves, the blade biting into soft and tender flesh until nics and cuts weeped crimson. You would sob but you wouldn’t shy away, no, you would arch into it, eyes pleading, you’d beg for more.

That is what made him decide you should get to know each other.

The first night he introduced himself, pulled you into a nightmare of his making and he let you hear him before you saw him. You felt tense, so unGodly tense and you weren’t even sure why. It was eerie, something about the place, a feeling in the air clued you into the fact that this place, dark, damp, steam filled, was off.

Soon you were made aware of the fact you weren’t alone. You heard footsteps, heavy breathing, the horrid screech of metal on metal and the urge, the overwhelming urge to run hit and you took off running. You ran and ran, random twists and turns in the messy maze of never ending hallways and pipes, He called after you, it echoed off of the walls, his voice was rough, it sent a shock through you.

You ran until you ran right into him.

You crashed into his chest, his hands gripping your wrists tightly, horrible burnt visage staring down at you and those eyes, hard and yet something that might be playful? His grip tightens and you feel the coldness of metal, the sharpness of the blades, your eyes flick down to his glove and your eyes go wide. Your bottom lip is tugged on with your teeth, you can’t help it, the way your mind flashes with ideas, possibilities. Normally you dream of one blade and whoever this is, is sporting multiple blades, on some odd glove, meaning that every single touch with that hand is inherently laced with danger. Shit, wait, why are you thinking like that?

He is blazingly hot, just like the space you were in, where were you in anyway? You look at the whole of him, the outfit, the hat and sweater, fuck how was he wearing that sweater right now?

And then you hear his voice up close as he tugs you to be more flush against him, “Heya toots.”

“Uh hi?” You respond shakily, sounding unsure, wondering just what was happening.

“Awe what kinda fucking greeting is that?” He asked leaning in closer.

“You can do a hell of a lot better than that.” His tone dipped into the more threatening range and it made you shiver even against the oppressive heat of what you would come to know as the boiler room.

“Wh-who are you exactly?” You asked softly and he laughed, low and dark before responding to your question, “I’m the man who’s gonna make all your dreams come true.”

You doubted him at first.

You laughed nervously, trying to take a step back but he didn’t allow that, strong hands keep you locked to him. “What’s so funny?” He asked and the look he gave made the laugh die on the end of your tongue instead, then swallowing it back, gulping as you say, “I…I dunno.”

“You don’t believe me.” You were starting to struggle, beginning to squirm, there was something about this man, if you could call him that, he looked like a monster, and yet he was getting to you. Was it his confidence, how he forced such closeness, his demeanour? His voice? There was a quality to him that was far too arousing.

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix that.” He raised his gloved hand and brought it down hard, your arm raised to protect yourself and your eyes squeezed shut anticipating the impact and instead you woke up. Shoot up right in your bed, slick with sweat and panting. It was a dream, a horrible nightmare. You raised your hand the way he had, to wipe the sweat from your brow but in the process of raising your arm you felt it. A jolt of pain, you wince and in the low light of your room there are four slash marks on your forearm and you are bleeding.

You went to the bathroom and cleaned and bandaged yourself. Your mind ran with thoughts of that stranger, of him, oddly, he never told you his name but it infected your brain when you thought of him.

Freddy Krueger.

That was only the first time he visited. He came by many more times, many more dreams, he made apparences and taunted and teased, kept himself close to you and that initial strange fascination only grew. It turned into genuine attraction, the kind that left you breathless if you thought about him too long and would make you wake up with constantly wet panties.

He seemingly did things that he knew would get a reaction out of you, he ate it up and it only fueled him further.

You had a feeling he might know how you felt but after several weeks you had it confirmed.

You’d been having nightmares regularly by this point and tonight was no different. You didn’t think it was his doing. It was such a classic set up it boarded on the cliche’. A big important presentation you were late for and then you are there, caught with your pants down in the college lecture hall.

Someone points it out and laughs and you reach down to cover yourself and the rest of your clothes fall away the more you try to cover yourself.

You are naked and struggling to cover yourself with your hands and your file folder and papers, everyone laughing. Your face burns with shame and humiliation as you feel such intense embarrassment, your eyes scanning over the crowd that is all taking joy in your compromising position, laughing away.

Then your eyes fall on him.

In the middle of the mostly faceless mob of the crowd. Standing there, watching you, eyes hungry, decidedly not laughing. Your eyes meeting his made your breath catch in your throat. His gaze dragged over your body and he made a small gesture with his head, encouraging you to drop your hands, to expose yourself. You moved your head almost imperceptibly, a shake communicating no and the look he gave you hardened.

You didn’t give in.

He tsk’d and he walked forward, non-gloved hand in his pocket, that cocky swagger to his walk as he approached you. “Still playing hard to get?”

“Who says I’m playing?” You fired back at him and he rolled his eyes, not slowing his approach, “So fuckin’ fiesty. I think you need to be broken down a bit.”

“And how are you gonna prove that, Krueger?” You asked and he grinned, instead of responding verbally you received a snap of his non-gloved hand after it was pulled out of his pocket and you were forced back against the teachers desk you were standing near. Your hands were also forced away from your body so you were gripping the edge of the moghanny, the papers you’d be holding fell and scattered at your feet. A small flick of those blades and your body moved again against your will so you were seated on the desk, his hands came together and he separated them again, almost a reverse clap, the action of that made you spread your legs.

“I don’t have to prove shit. That sweet little cunt of yours does it for me.” He taunted. He was right in front of you now, gloved hand moved, the backs of those blades running up your inner thigh and your eyes went wide. Your heart pounded from the danger and your body shivered from the chill of the metal, you watched the silver metal move against your soft skin as he steadily roamed higher and higher.

“Shit. Just look at you.” He continued. One of his blades met your overheated slit and the back of it nudged your lips, your body tensed and he parted them. “You’re fucking dripping.”

He was right.

It was on your inner thighs already but him spreading you open allowed the surplus that had been sitting just inside to slowly flow out onto the desk you were seated on.

“You obviously love this kinda shit and get off on it hard.” His non-gloved hand gripped your chin and he tilted your gaze up from your pussy to meet his eyes again. “C’mon, just admit it. You’re into me.”

You shake your head again, no way could you ever admit that you'd been masturbating to him. To what he showed you, the power he displayed, how soaked it got you. He was the pornography you got off to.

He leant in, standing between your legs, both hands on your outer thighs, his lips brushing against your throat making you tense further still. “You know if you're honest I might just fulfil some of those nasty little dreams of yours."

His tongue licked up your throat and you couldn’t hold back the moan you let out, one clear thought washed over you just as the rush of arousal did and before you realised you were your lips were forming the words “Yes please.”

And the next sensation was his hands on your shoulders and he was shoving you down hard so your naked back hit the desk. He was leaning over you, staring down at you, his hands hook under your knees and he pulls your legs up, bringing your feet up onto the desk as he spoke.“I’ve seen all those things you dream about, those disgusting, filthy things that you’d never fuckin’ try outside the confines of your mind.”

So many of those dreams flashed through your mind. Night after night of you wanting pleasure and pain, wanting to be bound, to be touched, to cry and moan, to feel. “You’ve seen all that?”

“Every little fucked up detail.” He confirmed as he started to slide down your body. “You sure love being humiliated, you finger fuck yourself totally dumb to that shit constantly.”

He was right. It’s why you were so wet even before seeing him and that thought overtakes. He saw you. He sees you for what you are and judging by how hard he felt on your thigh as he passed further down, sinking to his knees between your spread legs, he loved what he saw.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you everythin’ a whore like you needs.”

His mouth was on you in an instant. Impossibly long and slick tongue licking right up the centre of your folds, it makes your back arch and causes you to moan loudly in surprise which then causes some gasps. Your brows knit together in confusion until you turn to the sound and you realise that the class room hadn’t fallen away. All the seats in the lecture hall were still full. You were fully nude and about to be consumed whole by the dream demon who’d be tormenting you for months with a class full of faceless strangers all watching.

Holy shit that made fire run through your veins.

His non-gloved hand was on your hip and he squeezed as his mouth moved again, another pass of his tongue that made your eyes roll back.

The whole scenario got you impossibly hot as he ate you out on his knees. His mouth was hot, that talented tongue almost felt like it was programmed to know just what you liked. The way he slid up and down and over and through your slick lips, flicking over your clit, circling it and putting near perfect pressure. “Fuck! Fr-Freddy, yesss-”

You could hear your false classmates talking, they were talking about you, watching and taunting you the same way he had been doing for so long.

He hummed against you, the vibration on your straining clit felt sinful, your shoulder tensed, a bite of your bottom lip as he continued on. He was really slipping into the rhythm of it, he was making pleased sounds like he loved the taste as he ate.

You heard it first. The flick of metal on metal, then feeling it on your thigh, that glove, the one that had been haunting your thoughts so frequently. As soon as that glove touched down you hoped he would finally make good on all those threats, you hoped he would do what he had only a few times, you hoped he would cut you. He knew you too well. He knew what you needed.

As his tongue licked from hole to clit the blade on his index finger broke the skin and he cut into your soft flesh and blood ran. You groaned as the pleasure and pain mixed and that became the new game. He licked and sucked and flicked and cut. Every blissful wave of pleasure from his tongue was accompanied with a shock of pain from the blades. He didn’t cut every time, sometimes he just pressed on the weeping cuts, making more blood spill. The red ran down your thighs, it pooled around your hips and ran down your stomach and sides and onto the desk and you knew your bed sheets would be wrecked tomorrow.

Speaking of wrecked, so were you.

Moaning incoherently, panting, heart pounding, clawing at the desk, hips squirming as you practically humped his face.

He hadn’t been at this for long and you were already close.

He knew from the tone and pitch of your moans, he hummed encouragingly, his hands gripping your thighs. You were losing your mind, it felt like somehow his tongue was deep inside of you and simultaneously swirling around your clit and your body was taut and you were on the bleeding edge of orgasm. Your chest was heaving and his thumbs passed over two long matching cuts he had put onto your thighs as his lips captured and sucked hard on your clit and you came with a cry. The pleasure crashed through you as you gushed into his mouth, body trembling, not able to think of a single thing.

The class had been chattering and commenting on you the whole time, fueling all of this but their talk faded into the background when you came, your ears ringing from how hard the orgasm was.

You came down slowly to the feeling of his mouth releasing your aching and spent cunt. His mouth instead cleaned up the mess of spilled blood on your thighs. The salt of your slick on his mouth burned your cuts and you winced but were too weak to stop him. “Holy fuck Freddy.” You breathed, one of your hands wiping at your forehead.

You propped up on your elbows, looking down the length of your body to him, mouth coated in your various fluids as he was looking up at you. “I can’t remember ev-ever cummin’ that hard.”

“Not a bad start I’ll admit but we are far from done.” He spoke and you tilted your head to the side, “Oh, no?”

He hummed with a shake of his head as he stood up, his hands on your hips and he roughly flipped you onto your stomach. He was on you so quickly. His chest to your back, his gloved hand on your throat, having it so close, one of those blades pressed to your pulse, made you whimper. You felt his clothed erection grind against your ass, “Still gotta repay me for what I just did.”

He pulled back, his glove ran over your neck and then your shoulder and down your back until it was off of you and you heard the sound of his belt opening and pants unzipping.

You moaned softly, eyes falling closed as you arched back into him, presenting your leaking cunt at a better angle for him and you are rewarded with his hard cock dragging up through your slick folds.

“Don’t forget about them, this is a presentation.” He slipped inside in one hard and firm motion, you moaned. His non-gloved hand smacking you on the ass making you yelp as his gloved hand gripped your shoulder for better leverage.

“Enunciate so the back row can hear you, okay slut?” He pulled out and thrust back in hard and you cried out the only thing that you could, “Okay!”

#Slasher x reader #Freddy Krueger X Reader #BHF writing #BHF commissions #soar737 #Hope you all enjoy it!

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hailsatanacab · 4 months

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Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #batpham #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #look. this has been in my mind for so long guys so long - and idk if its canon that the batfam have codes for time travel situations or what #but i feel like ive seen it before and if its not canon it should be #so here - how i think that would be funny to go down #i have so many thoughts about TUE and its place in a dpxdc crossover like holy shit there's so many ways it can go!!#i have another wip in the works thats kinda similar to this but with superman and i cannot wait to work on it again #there are so many ways i wanted this to go but i just couldnt get there - i wanted to keep it on the shorter side but like #perhaps ill have to expand #i just love the idea that like. theres a stranger at your table who knows you and knows you well. who knows the secret that youd die to keep #there's a stranger at your table and he says something and you know he's family. you know you're strangers but now...#now you have to be something more #oh man theres so many juicy ways it can go and I KNOW I DID NONE OF THEM #i want to write this whole plot again and make it angstier #(me with everything)#anyway! sorry love you all hope you enjoy it!!

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