#freddyappericatation

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"You Don't Know What This Means." Freddy Krueger X AFAB! Reader. A Commission.

Ayyy! Another comm in the bucket! So this lovely commission, was done for @freddyappreciation who gave me the go ahead to post and share this lovely work with all of you! Went with something dark, romantic, and of course, horny as hell! I cannot thank them enough, getting paid to write Freddy?! A total dream come true. 2K was what they asked and paid for but I couldn't stop with such a rad prompt and busted out over 4K! Let's no dally, here we go!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.1K. Freddy Krueger X AFAB! Reader. Warnings. Dark Fic. Dangerously Obsessive Reader. Name Calling. Degradation. Rough Stuff. Man Handling. Mocking. Teasing. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Dirty Talk. Degradation. Face Fucking. Gagging. Choking. Restrained Reader. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Creampie. Crying Reader. Knife Play. Fear Play. Blood Play. Murder. Begging. Boot Humping. Edging. Denial. Consensual Snuff. Death.

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Is this what love is?

Is love cruel words and taunts muttered in the hollow of your throat while some ineffable force, heavy and chain like, holds you down into cracked and rough concrete? Is love cold steel slicing through sweat slicked flesh easier than a hot knife through butter? Is love a scarred hand with two fingers shoved so far into your mouth that you can’t stop yourself from gagging? 

Is love the way he weighs on your mind, unable to leave you? Is it called love when you cannot stop thinking about him, what he has done to you, what he has said to you. Is this love when you continue to come back to him and take the abuse and the hurt and the debasement and crave more still?

Is the thick lump in your throat and the nervous itch in your fingers, unable to stay still, along with the ever present slickness between your thighs a symptom of that funny phenomenon written about in countless books and songs? Depicted too on endless TV screens? 

Is the near obsession that has overtaken you while awake and asleep, love?

You aren’t sure what else it could be.

You’ve always heard love described as something all consuming, something fulfilling, something that makes you feel whole, complete. Love feels necessary and life changing and like you cannot live without it once you’ve experienced it, right? That’s what everyone always says anyway. 

Maybe you love what he does to you? How he touches you, rough, unrelenting, like he knows how much you can handle. He never underestimates you. He is seemingly as endlessly confident in what you can take as he is in himself. He clearly enjoys pushing your limits, making you cry, begging him, telling him there is no way you can do what he wishes, only for him to show you that yes you can and yes you will. 

Perhaps you love how he makes you feel? Not just physically, which holy fucking shit can he make you feel physically cannot be understated, but how he makes you feel about yourself. 

You adore the effect he has, the way he leaves his mark both mental and on your body, making the times that you share while you are asleep undeniable. You can’t say it didn’t happen when you look over your cut and bruised body in the dim morning light of your bathroom. Inspecting the mess of hickies, dried tacky blood and other fluids, along with fading scars from previous evenings spent tangled up with him. You feel like you don’t fully belong to yourself anymore, no, you are his and the way he claims you, hurts you, assists in you feeling this way. 

It makes you feel unsteady and off kilter, makes you feel impossibly hot, as if you are still in the boiler room long after waking, your mind feels sluggish, thick and clouded with lust and much more deep and complex feelings. 

Feelings that stir things up inside of you that are much harder to define but insanely delicious.

You cannot help being entranced by him. Totally swept up and captivated. You probably shouldn’t. He’s not human, an awful abomination, a murderer and yet here you were. Night after night begging for him. 

Ever since that first meeting where he pulled you to his realm and chased you, terrified you, nearly caught you, well you found it impossible to lock him out of your mind. It was like he burrowed under your skin and took root deep into your mind, refusing to leave or let you go.   

He taunted and teased you for a long while before he fucked you the first time but after he had you in that fashion it really ramped up. He declared you fun, worthwhile of his time and that made you feel special.

You liked being special. You liked it so much that is where your obsession truly began. Where the addiction took hold. 

Bedtime became your favourite time of day. Making yourself as enticing as possible, wearing delightful things made of silk and lace, high and low cut, excited to see what he would say, to feel him rip the flimsy garments from you and do whatever he wanted. You started going to bed earlier and earlier to see him sooner and sooner. 

You found yourself squeezing in naps when you could. Spending days off sleeping as much as your body could. 

You got so into seeing him that you had trouble falling asleep, far too energetic, mind whirring too quickly for sleep to claim you easily. 

This simply wouldn’t do. 

So you invest in as much as you can to make you sleep better, deeper, longer. Lavender lotion not only makes your skin soft, inviting his touch but promotes relaxation, lessens anxiety and makes for better sleep. You stock up on goodnight blend tea and drink it by the potful more than you do water. You don’t eat big meals in the evening. You invested in better bed sheets and a white noise machine and blackout curtains to make your bedroom the perfect space to crash hard. 

You sleep and sleep and sleep some more. Devote as much time as you can to him.

You abandon hobbies, your house falls into disarray, why clean when you can sleep? You don’t cook like you used to, ordering in, take out, frozen meals become your best friends. You also start showing up late to work, sleeping in far too much, also trying to leave early, your work suffers, mind clearly distracted and elsewhere. Thinking of him, wondering what he was doing, pouring over what you did last night and what else you hope to do in the future. 

Your boss talks to you and tries to inquire what is up with your quality of work lately, the showing up late, the sloppy appearance and you act cagey and dodge the questions, refusing to answer. You come up with lame excuses and your boss doesn’t seem satisfied but lets it go. 

You keep spending as much time as you can with him and the awful dream demon himself who you keep visiting? He finds all of this hilarious. You are devoted to him, spending all your energy and money and time on him. He loves the attention, loves how willing and ready you are, that you are broken for him. 

He taunts and mocks you over it often. 

You are on your back, head hanging off of the bed he conjured, his non-gloved hand on your throat as he continually forced his cock past your lips, over your tongue and into your tight and constantly constricting throat. You gagged, struggling to breathe through your nose. Spit ran almost embarrassingly from the corners of your stretched wide lips and down over your eyes that were squeezed shut as tight as possible. You took the abuse he gave with gusto, utterly soaked, who needs air when you have him after all? 

“You’d do fuckin’ anything for me wouldn’t you?”

You attempt to nod but another harsh thrust, the deepest so far, makes you gag so hard your back arches with the motion of it before falling back onto the bed. You writhe, your hands on his hips but you don’t push him away, you wouldn’t dare, in fact, you pull him closer. The taste of him makes your head swim. 

“Course you would. Desperate and pathetic whore.” He grits out as the grip on your throat tightens, you choke around him, swallow thickly around the head of his dick and it makes him groan. “Can feel how deep I am in here.”

He could have been talking about his cock inside or his deep hold in your mind and both would have been equally true. 

Your fingers dig into his hips, your tongue presses to the underside of his shaft, you continue to slurp and suck him messily, trying to give as much as you humanly can.

It’s a good effort but he isn’t human, you are reminded of that often and it’s part of what you enjoy so much about him. You are in a perfect headspace right now, submissive and pliable, your hips rock involuntarily, desperate for some stimulation. “So needy you gotta hump the air, hmm? You still need more attention?”

He taunted as he continued to brutally ram into your throat. You whimper weakly around his shaft and he tsks, “My cock down your throat ain’t enough for ya?”

You shake your head slightly and you feel his gloved hand touch down on your bare stomach, the sudden chill of the metal makes you jerk under him. “Greedy, greedy.” 

You feel him drag the blades up, the edges tease and you shiver, you wonder what he is planning as his hips slow but you aren’t left to wonder long. He cuts you. Breaks the skin and you cry around his cock. A deep steadying breath through your nose before continuing to suck and he laughs, he cuts again and again and while your pace falters slightly you keep on going, you keep on pleasuring him. “You’re too fuckin’ much.” He pants out.

“Here I am cutting you and you still keep sucking, still tryna hump the air too, stupid slut.” His fingers press into the fresh cuts, he makes more blood well up. You feel the hot and slick liquid run down the sides of your stomach and begin to saint the sheets below. You are sweating so much from the heat of the boiler room it stings the open wounds and it makes you cry harder as he fucks over and over into you. His groans more frequently, panting as he continues to degrade you, throbbing on your tongue. 

He’s close.

You want him to cum down your throat, you want it more than anything. You make some needy and urgent sounds and he laughs again, he cuts deeper. His thumb smoothes over the angry red lines and digs in, making you buck under him from the pain that washes over you. “You need it fuckin’ bad, dontcha?”

A shaky nod, you are crying openly, the mix of tears and drool on your face is indistinguishable from one another. Your shoulders are shuddering, hands barely holding onto him as you just take what he gives, the taste of him thick on your tongue. “Get ready-”

The gruff quality of his voice when he was so close always made you clench around nothing. You are treated to three more strong thrusts, a new cut matching each one until he pushes in as deep as he can and he cums. Mess of him draining right down your throat, you swallow around his twitching dick, pulling some amazing sounds from him for a change. 

It is far too satisfying for words as he rides out his orgasm. 

He holds inside of you until you push back on his hips, about to nearly pass out from lack of oxygen. Only then he slides out, dragging his still hard cock over your face, adding to the extra mess as he does so. “Not half bad.” He compliments as he slaps your cheek with his shaft lightly. 

The compliment is basic but you smile, warm and genuine. He calls you out on it, “Only someone as tragic and hard up for a crumb of affection as you would grin at some shit like that.” 

You feel warm. You feel happy with him. You feel like this is your place, this is what you deserve.

This is how you spend your nights with him. Being cut and your body used to fulfil his needs. 

You’d been around long enough that you get a little more than that however. 

You get a little special treatment. You get to hear about his “work” , about what he does and how he does it. You eat it up. It might fuel many a hook up. You can’t help but get aroused by the sheer force of nature he was, the power he held, the control. He took so many lives and yet he didn’t take yours because you were fun enough, fuckable enough to have around.

But one night it shifted.

He was telling you about it and the way he spoke about it made you really realise what he did. He didn’t just kill them, there was more to it than that, he took their soul. He whispered about it, low in your ear as his non-gloved hand was between your thighs, fingers buried inside you, curling over and over into that sweet spot that made you sob and quiver. He told you all the dirty details. 

Told you they became part of him.

They fed him.

Those who he killed were bonded to him, with him always, totally inseparable. 

He fucked you until you had no voice as he told you of the extreme acts of awful violence and the atrocities he has committed. You cum so hard your vision goes white, the images of slashed open throats and torsos of torn limbs, gushing red and the sound of endless screams flash through your mind. 

You thought long and hard about that the morning you woke after learning such a fact. You sat in bed, sweaty, bloody and cum covered. You lay in your messy bed, sheets pooled around your hips, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought until you make a decision. 

You wanted that. You didn’t know what it said about you or what it meant but fuck, you wanted it.

Your life is so far gone by this point. You are about to lose your job, you are sure of it. You haven’t contacted family or friends, you don’t respond to messages and anyone who comes by you pretend you aren’t home. Your money is gonna run out fast once you lose your job. Your life in reality was dull, it wasn’t worth living, you didn’t want to be awake. Every second spent conscious was occupied with him, wanting to get back in his arms, in that damn boiler room. 

Life is meaningless and worthless when you aren’t asleep.

So why bother?

Why not give up your disgusting and shitty excuse of a life in favour of giving yourself up, fully and completely to him?

You quit your job. You leave a letter to your loved ones. You go to bed for hopefully the last time. 

You are pulled to him as quickly as ever and seeing him confirms just what you want, you ache upon seeing the outline of him in the shadows through the steam. You hear him drag those blades across old rusted metal and the sound that would make anyone else cringe instead brings you comfort, it makes you smile. 

It pushes you forward, to what you hoped would become your whole entire world, to him.

You run. You don’t stop till you are nearly crashing into him, tugging at his sweater and he laughs, “Awe it’s been what? Less than twelve hours this time? Yer actin’ like you haven’t seen ol Freddy in days.”

“Missed you. I always miss you. I hate being away.” You admitted easily, burying your face into the rough material of his sweater, inhaling deeply the scent that was so thoroughly him. He laughed, long and cruel and the debasement started again.  

“You are hardly ever awake now, always spendin’ all your time with me, is your life that sad and boring or am I just that fun to be around?”

Both. Definitely both. You had no idea how much you disliked your life until he showed up and you were made to confront the simple fact that nothing, not even reality and existence in the waking world compares to him. 

You realise you hadn’t responded yet and told him, “Both, it’s…It’s both.” You take a deep breath before pulling back, looking up at him, fingers tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. “Actually uhm, about that Freddy. I was wondering about something…”

“What’s that?” He asked and you continued, “I was wondering about what you said the other night, about killing and taking people's souls, is all of that true?”

He clicked his tongue, a shake of his head, “Course it’s true, what do you think I do when I’m not fucking you stupid?” He presses on, “And what do you think this is for?” 

His gloved hand meets your hip and drags up, sharp blades tease through thin silk and you shiver. “Think it’s a damn fashion statement?” 

“No, no Freddy, I figured you actually murder but the souls thing, do they really become like…Part of you?” You asked softly. 

“Why all the questions? Usually I got my cock balls deep in you by this point.” He teased, pressing closer to you, sharp blades brushing the side of your neck. He had a point, normally that is how it would be. 

You should be honest, lay it all out, with a hard swallow you say, “I want you to kill me.”

The air shifted in the boiler room so severely you could feel it. “What?”

You respond in an instant, leaving you on a rushed single exhale, “I want you to kill me.”

You are shoved into the wall so roughly, it hurts, you groan from the pain, eyes wide with shock, his gloved hand is on your throat. He leaned in closely, lips brushed against your ear as he asked in that deliciously gruff voice of his, “You want me to kill you?”

“Ye-yes.” His grip tightens a fraction and you bite your bottom lip before adding on, “I-I want you to take my soul, I wanna be here forever, with you.” 

He pulls back, his eyes boring into yours, he jerks you against the wall, it hurts and steals some of your breath as he chokes you harder. “Oh you dunno what you are asking for you little bitch.” 

Yes you did. You thought long and hard about all of this, you craved it more than you were currently craving oxygen to breathe properly. You wanted him, wanted to give up everything to be here. You try to convince him. You nod as much as you can, squeaking out, “Ye-yeah I know what M’ askin’ for.”

“No. You really don’t. If I do this it won’t be what you’re thinkin’ it’ll be.” His tone was dangerous, sharp, just like the blades of his glove. “You won’t be you anymore, won’t be an individual, you’ll just be part of me-”

You struggle to say, your hand gripping his wrist, “I-I don’t care! That’s what I want! I want it, I want you, please, please-” 

He practically purrs at this. “Someone begging me to kill them is new. M’ always used to havin’ to chase people and take what I want.” He leans in closer, his lips almost an inch from yours. “Having you offer it up so willingly?” 

His glove loosened, dragging down your body, making you arch into him, “S’ got undeniable appeal.” 

“So you’ll do it?” You asked, impossibly hopeful. 

“Yeah I’ll kill ya.” He hummed and you couldn’t restrain the soft moan you let out at that, positively delighted at the prospect. “Such an eager victim.”

You were, you really were. 

His non-gloved hand was on your body now, feeling you up greedily, “Such a good body, so fun to torment. Damn shame it’s gonna go to waste.”

You loved when he was complimentary like this. “How about one last fuck before I tear you to shreads?”

Naturally, you jumped at the chance. 

You revel in it. You soak up every last bit of it, every touch, and bite, every grope and harsh word. You moan and write and pant, you give yourself over fully knowing that you are all his, that he wants you, is going to keep you. 

You are high on pleasure and on pain and on him. You are made to choke on his cock, grinding yourself on his boot, leaking embarrassingly over the well worn leather, mocking you all the while. “Humping my boot to try and get off? You’re totally hopeless.” 

You were. You moan around him and buck harder, your nails biting into your thighs as you stare up at him, pushing him deeper into your mouth. He waits until you are close to cumming before he pushes you down. Thin silk nightgown is cut from your body, torn away and tossed aside. 

He forces you onto your knees. Non-gloved hand pushing your head down, making it so your cheek is pressed to the wet grit covered floor of the boiler room. His gloved hand is splayed on your lower back as he slides inside. You moan, eyes falling closed and he sets a punishing pace. Your fingers dig into the floor so hard it hurts. You buck back into him, crying out for him, absolute bliss as he slams into that sweet spot that makes stars appear behind your closed lids. 

The blades bite into your back, it hurts, you bleed and you sob. He spreads the mess of scarlet, he licks up the salt and iron and groans in kind. He fucks you nearly dumb, you are a panting and incoherent mess but he doesn’t need words to know when you are close. Your cunt is tightening up, leaking like a faucet, you can’t stop shaking, soaked in sweat and he knows you are on the edge. 

It’s time. 

His fingers thread in your hair and he tugs, he pulls you up hard, hips never slowing, he grits out into your ear, “Ready?”

“God, yes, yes! Ffffuck, M’ cumming-” You gasp and he feels it. Your walls clamp down on him, body tightening up, and the second you tip over his glove slides up your back and hooks around your throat. With perfect precision and practised ease the sharp tips dig in and break the skin and he pulls hard. He rips and slices through your throat easily, skin splits and blood pours down your chest and onto the floor between your hands. You weren’t expecting it to be like this.

You weren’t expecting it to hurt so much. You can’t make much sound, he cuts deep and once he starts he doesn't stop, your vocal chords are wrecked, you make weak and wet gurgling sounds as you choke on your own blood. You are aware he is saying something to you but you can’t make it out, mind clouded, between the biggest orgasm of your life and the sensation of death creeping in, you can’t focus or understand the words. 

There is one thing you do recognize through the haze. The faltering of his own hips, then pressed full and deep, warmth, burning hot spreading inside. Your body is feeling so cold so fast, even in the heat of the boiler room, you feel yourself fading, life leaving you. 

You are dying from the hand of this monster, the same one who’s responsible for your pleasure, the same one who chained you to him, drove you to think this was a good idea. 

You are dying and it’s all because of him and here he is, cumming inside of you one last time, getting off on the brutality of it so explicitly. He pulls out and your body is flowing from both ends, blood spilling from the large gash that used to be your throat and his cum from your well abused cunt. 

His hands release you and you fall to the floor, he is no longer touching you and you die then and there, him watching over your body. 

The pain is as inhuman as he is. It is indescribable agony. You didn’t think this is how it would be. He tried to tell you. Tried to warn you. Yet you didn’t listen. You thought you’d be like a pet, a plaything, kept in his realm for him to use and abuse. You thought you’d be fucked day in and out and have no worries or responsibilities. 

It’s not that.

There are others here, you can’t tell where you end and they begin. He was right, you are no longer you, no longer a separate entity, you are a mix, a writhing, incorporeal mass of pain and suffering along with the other souls he has taken and consumed, part of what fuels him.

And even still, this is what you wanted right? Even if you didn’t really know this is how it would be, this is what you asked for all the same.

So we come back to the same question we started with. Is this what love is? 

Only now you have a sure and definitive answer, one that dominates the reminder of your form, one that is burned into the very core of your essence. 

Yes. 

It is.