micheal would be a even mix between a sadist and a masochist when it came to you.
he’d be soft and steady, keeping his rhythm as he folded you missionary, then he’d slam into your cervix, making you dig your nails into his back from pain
he’d shutter, his head lulling, pounding into you again and again, until you bloodied his back, the way you’d contort and cry making him throb.
he’d fold you further, arms on either side of your head, gently holding you to his chest, so you could bite if you struggled to take him. though it was counterintuitive as the pain only made him rougher.
before he had you under him, when you’d be assigned to his cell, he’d still get off on fucking with you. almost finding more pleasure in torturing you than he did killing anyone.
letting you drop off his food tray, quiet as he waited until you turned to face him, blocking the door, eerily tall. he’d get hard when your face showed fear, or from the pain of your hits when he’d get too close
he’d frequently cage you in, making you fight, the soft strikes and desperate scratching on his chest making his stomach flutter, pressing his firm bulge on you to watch you squirm in horror.
vincent was unusual for how he expressed his emotions.
you knew this, but you liked it, you really liked it.
when he’d cry, you’d never know until you heard a faint sniffle or a broken breath. and if you’d coo him loudly, he’d stiffen. you had to learn to move slowly, just gently scoot closer and hold him tight, comfort him with soft words.
each time he felt your comfort, his rigidness softened quicker than the time before, eventually when he trusted you more, he’d walk up and just bury himself into you when he got sad.
one emotion vincent really struggled to express clearly was anger. especially to you, he very very rarely confronted you.
so when you pissed him off he just straight up ignored you, it’s not that he didn’t want to work it out, or that he wasnt affected, he just didn’t know how to express it. he wouldn’t look at you either, hiding out in the basement as he spent all his time sculpting.
as when he’s infatuated he’s the opposite. he just stares at you fondly with low eyes, following you around like a dog, unable to leave your side, making you jump when you quickly turn and forget he’s there, his stillness eerie. it can get creepy, if you let it.
so you’d have to guess what you did wrong, he’d faintly nod his head yes when you got it, but he wouldn’t give you attention again until you apologized, sincerely.
but when it came to you? and he did something wrong, and you got upset? he wouldn’t let you ignore him even a little, it wasn’t an option.
he’d pester you until you opened up, he didn’t take brushing it off as an answer. you’d tell him a million times it’s nothing, and your fine, but he’s still signing
are you sure?.. tell me?..
over and over until you had no choice but to give in. vincent was very unfair that way.
he had a absent way of expressing how you affected him, you’d kiss his neck deeply, feeling his head tilt back a little, and when you stopped, and he looked down, you couldn’t tell if he liked it. eye staring at you blankly, unblinking, like he wasn’t sure how to feel.
then you’d bump the hard tent in his pants, and he couldn’t look back down at you, turning away and hiding his face behind his long black hair. it was like the only normal part of him was his dick.
he’d faintly buck his hips with need if you stalled to touch him.
he’d still show it though. just maybe not in the moment, staring down at you when you knelt for him, expressionless through the eye holes of his mask.
the hardest twitch you felt was his dick throb in throat. his hands just slightly trembled in comparison, abruptly pulling and tangling when the pleasure got too much.
you loved giving him head for that reason, it was when you got the most reaction from him, you’d focus on his tip just to hear the strained sounds, when he couldn’t help but loose himself.
he’d show it after, when his legs mostly relaxed, pulling you ontop of him. he breathed shaky breaths as he caged you in, careless to the mess he trapped you into.
he was the most vocal too, while he had you bound to him, his arms firm as he held you to his chest.
you could hear his soft sounds, as his high came down, with your weight atop him.
"I want to take you." I could se how my words paralyzed him. He knew what I meant, he wasn't imagining it. Then breathier. "Show me."
Freddy recoiled, then snarled. "You don't know what you're—" I dropped to my knees before he finished, grabbing the waistband of his pants. The stench of burnt flesh worsened when I slid the fabric down his hips, and stared for just a second before taking his semi erect cock out, mesmerized by the sight of the thick veins under the damaged skin. Freddy hissed between his teeth when I brushed the weeping splits along his shaft. "Fuck," he growled, hips jerking involuntarily.
My tongue darted out experimentally, but the taste was too sudden, too rotten. I gagged, coughed, then immediately tried again, determined. The head barely fit past my lips, inexperienced as I am, my teeth scraping his flesh despite my best efforts.
His gloved hand tangled in my hair, holding me down. "You're fucking terrible at this."
I stopped and pulled off with a wet pop, fighting against his hold. "You're not exactly... standard." I rubbed the leaking slit with my thumb, smearing greenish fluid. "Guide me. Tell me what you like, how you like it."
"Less talking," he growled. His cock twitched against the palm of my hand, the burnt skin flaking where I gripped too tight. I wanted to bite him off. Instead, I leaned in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the head. "Open wide." His hand grabbed my hair again, dragging me forward until my nose hit where his pubic hair would have been. The stench made my eyes water. "Use your tongue."
I pressed my tongue flat against the weeping underside of his cock, his deep groan vibrating through my skull. Fuck. Still too much. I gagged around his girth as saliva started to drip down his shaft, along with the sickening greenish fluid from before. "Breathe through your nose." I heard him say.
My knees were starting to hurt, and I pulled back, coughing. "I can't—" His gloved hand clamped over the back of my head, forcing me back down, the blades leaving faint scratches. It's too much, I wanted to tell him. Slow down.
"You will." His hips rolled slowly against my lips. "Or I'll pin you down and fuck that pretty throat raw." The threat should've terrified me, but it only made me squeeze by thighs together at the thought. Damn his deep sexy voice.
I did my best to take him in as much as I could, this time using my teeth deliberately. Freddy's snarl dissolved into a groan, his hips stuttering. "Fuck—just like that." His claws raked all over my scalp, drawing more blood, and all I could do was moan around him. I mapped the damage with my tongue, over the ridged scars, the split skin, and the occasional bump of a vein. His breathing grew heavier, faster, his grip on my hair tightening painfully. Even more than before. "I'm gonna come down that fucking throat," he warned, which is more courtesy than I expected to get from him.
His orgasm hit suddenly despite his warning, his claws tearing through my hairline, the acidic taste flooding my mouth. I swallowed convulsively until he wrenched my off with a muttered curse, some of his cum sliding down my chin.
Freddy stared down at me, his burnt face unreadable. "Fucking insane," he muttered in disbelief. "Absolutely fucking insane."
_____
Yep, I wrote this for you. Do what you will with this ❤️🔥
OuHghhg I'm just straight up posting this
Thank you so much anon this was a Hell of a read ( ⸝⸝꩜ ﹏ ꩜⸝⸝;) and everyone else needs to read this ASAP
Note: I genuinely can't stand the original version of this because it shows exactly when my schizophrenia started getting worse and jumbling my speech, so I am IMMENSELY happy with how this one came out lol.
Fingers whiteknuckling into soft cotton, you smother your face with your pillow and loudly groan in sheer frustration and annoyance. The phone in the hallway rings, each wave of sound like an ice pick cracking through your sleep addled skull. With the pillow tossed aside, you spare a quick glance at the alarm clock by your bedside – two in the fucking morning. A frown etches itself onto your face, complementing the dark circles that have made their home under your eyes.
You regretfully roll out of the soothing warmth of your bed, hissing as the cold winter air wraps its chilly fingers around you and the cold wood floor bites at your soles. If it weren’t for the fact that your good-for-nothing sisters had long since given up on answering late night calls and delegated the duty of silencing the ringing to you, you’d jump right back into the toasty embrace of your blankets. A wistful sigh squeezes from your lungs as you slowly make your way out to the phone, eyeing the noisy plastic figure with enough contempt to burn a hole through it.
Taking a deep breath to wash out the irritation boiling in your veins, you wrap a violently shivering hand around the phone and lift it to your ear. There’s a blissful moment of silence, the shrill ringing snuffing out like a candle flame between your fingers. The same routine as every night – one line to confirm whether it’s a legitimate call or the unruly ghoul who has been stealing away your precious beauty sleep.
“Hello? Can I h-”
A high pitched squeal rips through the receiver, and you jerk the phone away from your face as you wince at the pain that lances through your ear. Shocked wide awake, your grip on the phone tightens so much you worry it might shatter. Of course it’s the Moaner calling, again. How stupid could you possibly be to think any reasonable person would call at this ungodly hour? Teeth gritting in searing rage, you bring the phone back up to your ear at a somewhat safer distance to protect your delicate hearing.
“Are you fucking kidding me man? Can’t you just give it a rest for one night?”
You hear him gargling and snorting on the other end of the line, and then he pitches into a fit of giggles. “I wanna lick it. Wanna stick my tongue in your pretty pink pussy. Feel how tight and wet it is–” His breath hitches and trails off into a groan that melts the frost right off your bones – you refuse to discern the feeling behind it, too afraid to find anything but a negative feeling behind the curtains. God, sleep deprivation and being buried in your studies has really done a number on you… When was the last time you got some action?
“Stick it up your ass instead, creep. Sick of this shit…” You mutter, mostly to yourself but loud enough for him to hear. The blabbering in the receiver picks up again, but distorts into jumbled nothingness and then is silenced with a click as you place the phone back in its cradle. Too awake now to rest, but well aware of the exhaustion that clings to your every fiber, you decide it might be in your best interest to unwind. Shaking your hand out as if you’d sullied your palm by touching the phone, you hurriedly make your way back to your room.
Your shoulders slump with relief the instant your bedroom door latches shut behind you, blocking out the chill of the main house and enveloping you in the mild warmth of your small space. Haphazardly tossing your back onto the mattress, you hum contentedly to yourself as you slip under your covers and revel in what little body heat remains in the soft fabric. The low-slinking fever that had wormed its way into your core during the call – which you still refuse to acknowledge the cause for – becomes a softly simmering need that tugs your limbs into action.
With a resigned huff, you slip your fingers under the waistband of your pajamas and softly trail it down the delicate junction of your hip. Your breath hiccups at the bright shock of simple contact, overwhelmed by how absurdly sensitive you’ve become from lack of contact. The lower your fingers dip, the sharper the sensation grows, until it unfurls like a wildfire over your whole figure as you brush over your clit. Thighs tightening involuntarily, your mouth drops into a slackjawed oh as the long-forgotten pleasure washes over your brain in silken waves.
You’re mildly ashamed to find that you’re already soaked, fingers slipping smoothly over your clit with the aid of the slick that had pooled in the gusset of your undergarments. You work small circles over the sensitive bud, rocking your hips up into the sweet feeling. Teeth worrying into your lower lip as you try to stay silent, you push two fingers into your drenched pussy and throw your head back in relief. Your insides swallow them up eagerly, starving for any contact after being denied for so long.
Just as you start to get a rhythm going, a rustling sound jerks you out of focus. Your movements freeze, fingers buried in your still clenching hole as you strain to listen for any other disturbances. Just as you’d stopped, so had the sounds. You sigh in irritation, figuring it had just been your clothes brushing against your covers. Abstinence and stress doesn’t look good on you – getting paranoid over nothing.
Your fingers start moving again, eagerly chasing a much-anticipated high to drain away all the negativity weighing on your system. Small moans hum behind your teeth, chest heaving as a slight sheen of sweat works up over your skin. Higher, higher, higher you build, until…
Shf shf – k-kunk!
You gasp and rip your fingers away, shooting into an upright position to scan your surroundings. That definitely hadn’t come from you, and whatever was making the noise continued to shuffle around. Hastily wiping your fingers off on your pants, you grab the closest object to you – a glass bottleneck vase, long devoid of the flowers it once held – and silently make your way out of bed.
More pattering sounds come from nearby, and you slowly tiptoe towards it. You come face to face with your closet door, sweaty fingers squeaking as they tighten around the neck of the vase. Sucking in a shaky breath, you wrap a hand around the doorknob and yank it open. Fully expecting to find nothing other than the house creaking or perhaps a critter that had made its way in from the cold, you’re caught completely off guard by the absurd sight before you.
The moonlight pouring in through your window illuminates the figure of a man crouched by your laundry hamper. His head immediately swivels to face you, face like a manic owl as he immediately drops the fistfuls of dirty clothes he’d been snatching up. Despite your shocked state, you take note of how his curly red-brown hair frames his pale, freckled face and accents his large, olive eyes – he’d almost be cute if he wasn’t sorting through your closet like some panty-thieving creep. Come on horny-brain, get a fucking grip!
The breath rushes out of your lungs as you move to shout at him, but any potential sound is snuffed into a wheeze as the man throws himself into your gut. You’re knocked onto your back with a harsh unf as your makeshift weapon falls from your grasp and rolls under the bed. Bony fingers wrap around your neck, pressing uncomfortably into your larynx as he scrambles to get on top of you and cage your hips with his gangly legs.
“Pretty piggy found Billy! Naughty piggy! Bad piggy cunt!” He barks in your face, flecks of saliva flying off his bared teeth. The voice immediately hits home with a sickening realization. Your whole body goes rigid under him, eyes flashing white as you stare up at him in horror.
This isn’t just some random man, this is the one who has been battering you and your sisters with obscenities all week. The Moaner isn’t just some bastard down the road pulling some sick phone prank – he’s real, and he somehow has access to your room.
The waves of white-hot fear rolling over you rapidly escalate into a seething, broiling rage as you feel the weight of his body on you. This is no longer some pathetic phone game – he’s flesh and bone and blood, which means he gets to play your game now. With a furious hiss, you buck his malnourished figure off you and roll him under you. His fingernails scrape angry trails over the sides of your neck as you tear his hands off and pin them next to his head.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you malignant little shit stain? Do you have any idea how shitty my week has been thanks to you?” Your nails dig into his wrists hard enough to draw little crescents of blood. He glares up at you with eyes that are more sclera than iris, snarling and twisting as he tries to escape your grasp. Luck is not on his side, his movements weakened by the absence of weight and muscle on his scrawny frame. “Fucking answer me. All that noise you make, and now you choose to be quiet?”
He hawks a glob of saliva at you, but it falls short on the front of his cardigan. “Gotta punish piggy. Destroy that pretty piggy cunt with my fat cock.” Manic giggles wrack his frame, shaking you where your pelvis rests on his sunken stomach. You grit your teeth in frustration, slamming his hands down into the floor hard enough to bruise.
“Can’t you say anything else, you stupid pervert?” You release one of his wrists to grab a handful of his unruly hair and aggressively yank him nose to nose with you. Your lips part to speak again, but he cuts you off with a high-pitched whine and his eyes flutter shut. Your brows furrow as your stare at him in disbelief, watching as his long lashes brush against his now flushed cheeks. Experimentally, you tug again, watching in fascination as his head falls back to expose his pale throat – Adam's apple bobbing sinfully as he swallows and gives a sultry groan. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he opens his eyes to stare at you from under hooded lids – his irises appearing warmer without the sea of white washing them out. A small shift of your hips snaps you back to reality as something prods against your rear, and a quick glance back confirms that it is precisely what you’re thinking.
The low light in the room drapes deliciously over the tent standing proud in the loose fabric in his pants, and you’re suddenly very aware of your previous problem again – cunt throbbing hard against Billy’s flexing stomach. Molten molasses pours over your brain, lubricating the gears there as they rapidly turn. You stare at his erection as he bucks it up against your ass, and then turn your gaze to his furious, beet red face. Something clicks as you observe how he glares at you with equal measures rage and lust – a fulfilling, devious, insane, immensely stupid idea.
“What was it that you said on the phone earlier…” You drop his head to the floor with a dull thud and lean back, using his momentary disorientation to release his other wrist and stand up. He looks up at you with a snarl and moves to grab at your ankle, but you stomp on his shoulder with the heel of your foot and give him a withering scowl. He winces and recoils as his shoulder creaks under the pressure, hissing at you and scraping his nails across the floor.
Your fingers hook in the elastic of your pajama pants, swiftly dropping it to your ankles and kicking it off to the side of the room. Billy’s lips seal into a tight line and his eyes bulge as if they’re about to pop out of his head. From where he’s at on the floor, he can clearly see the wet patch on your underwear that sits snugly over the gentle curve of your lips.
“You wanna lick it? Wanna stick your tongue in my pretty pink pussy, feel how tight and wet it is?”
Your fingers are playing with the edge of your undergarments, ready to pull them down, but Billy doesn’t give you the chance to. “All for me! Pretty piggy bitch! Mine!” He surges up, fingers scrabbling at your thighs and nails raking raised lines down the plush flesh as he tears the fabric from your hips. You barely get a chance to yelp in shock before Billy is digging his fingers in your love handles and yanking you down. Your knees collapse to the floor, pain shooting through your legs as he wastes no time in shoving your thighs open and cramming his face between them with a hungry flash of teeth.
The first fat stripe licked between your lips has the both of you vocalizing, his growl drowned out under the high pitched keen you give. “Ohh fuck!” You don’t get the opportunity to savor it; Billy dives right in with unrestrained eagerness. His tongue shoves roughly against your sensitive clit, tugging it between his lips so he can give it a harsh suck. Every movement of his mouth is frenzied, all sloppy teeth and tongue with no consideration for your comfort, only for his overbearing need to feast. Despite the clear inexperience and concerning lack of gentleness, your body eagerly welcomes whatever pleasure it can wring from the experience. It had been an absurd amount of time since you’d last bedded someone, and you can’t even remember the last time someone had eaten you out – let alone willingly or with this level of enthusiasm.
“Fffucking shit, Billy. This might be the only thing your damned mouth is good for.” You manage to gasp out between moans, your palm muffling your sounds so as to not wake your sisters. His tongue rolls over the exposed head of your clit, drawing a honeyed whine from you before he pulls off with a wet pop and looks up at you with wild eyes. The moonlight catches on his face, reflecting off the vulgar mess of saliva and slick coating his puffy lips and twitching jaw.
“So filthy and wet and tight, all for Billy.” He giggles, pressing his fingernails deeper into the soft flesh of your hips and delivering a sharp bite to your inner thigh. You can’t hold back the sharp, shuddering cry you give at that, thrusting against Billy’s face as he pushes right back in and starts fucking your pussy with his tongue. If you weren’t so focused on chasing the golden pleasure thrumming through your veins, you’d be embarrassed by how obscenely loud the wet slurping and sucking sounds emanating from between your thighs are. You silently pray that all your sisters are dead asleep and unable to hear what’s happening in your room, because you’re too far gone to even begin explaining the scene that you’ve gotten yourself into.
Head rolling back as you lose yourself in the waves of pleasure, you rock your hips in time with his messy licks, whining with each rough jolt against your swollen clit. You find yourself climbing higher, gut coiling tighter with each frenzied swipe over the sensitive bud. Your thighs tighten around Billy’s head and your fingers snarl in his hair, but he pays you no mind and stays honed in on pulling as much ambrosia from your sweet core as he can.
“God, I’m so fucking close, please–” The words seem to snap a thread in him, his mouth somehow going faster and harder. Your nails scratch against his scalp as you hold on for dear life, sobbing and thrashing on his face as the wet muscle of his tongue ravages your nerves. The sobbing draws out into a reedy wail as you cum violently, pussy convulsing and gushing over Billy’s dutiful maw. In what little part of your brain that is still present, you worry that you’re going to crush or suffocate him to death. Your thighs hold his skull in a trembling death lock, his mouth suctioned to your cunt and nose buried into your mons.
Head tossed back in ecstasy, you use him to ride out your much-needed climax, humping his face as he licks you through the throes of your pleasure. Finally, as it begins to become too much, you loosen your grip and fall back on your elbows. Billy’s scleras flash manically in the light as he frantically sits up and tries to follow, but you use one shaky foot to push him back.
“‘S too much…” You slur, watching him with heavy lidded eyes as the syrupy pleasure turns to leaden exhaustion in your bones. For a moment, he almost looks like a kicked puppy – big, wet eyes stare up at you from under furrowed brows and his lower lip juts out in a pathetic pout. He looks like he wants to object, but then his tongue swipes out over his lips, and the pout instantly drops as he tastes the remainder of your orgasm still present on his face. With a sated grumble, he rolls you off of him and scrambles back to his feet.
You lean back on your elbows, watching with weary curiosity as the mess of a man snatches your shredded undergarments from the floor and shuffles his way towards your closet once more. He casts you one last glance – looking like a feral cat who’d gotten too greedy with a bowl of milk – and then slips behind your clothing, seemingly disappearing into the wall.
The logical part of you wonders where the hell he’d gone, where the hell he’d come from; the current majority of your mind couldn’t give less of a shit. Your monkeys, your circus, but just not right now. The post-climax haze weighs heavy on your mind and muscles, sapping you of any willingness to deal with the jarring slap to your reality at the current moment. Deciding it’s best to leave all problem-solving for the morning, you peel your sweaty figure off the floor and crawl half-nude under the covers.
The relief is instant, slumber rolling over you like a weighted fog. As you’re drifting off, you can’t help the soft smile that graces your face as your fading hearing picks up on a distinct sound coming from the attic – the rustling of fabric and a deliciously familiar groan.
I've read all about Freddy cumming and grinding and so on, but, like: WORSHIP HIS WHOLE BODY, not just his cock, damn it!
Bath him and clean him while you feel every corner, every crevice of his burnt skin. Take your time to show your devotion to him, kiss every part of him, lick him and bite him until he loses control and takes you right there. Let him guide you and your hands so he can get exactly what he wants while staring straight at your flushed face. He is your god, isn't he? Then worship every part of him, no exceptions 🫠🥰❤️🔥
( ´ ﹃｀) ouuGHHH
It's even better that he looks you dead in the face, or makes you look up at him, while you worship him. No shying away, no hiding your excitement and arousal, no looking down to keep your flushed face to yourself. No, he wants to see it. The way your worship affects you and how happy your devotion to him makes you. Those half-lidded eyes staring up in awe as you lathe over his body and the total need behind them. You'd never ask him to fuck you outright, it's far too bold. But he knows it's what you want. The heat in your groin screaming to be relieved even if it means pathetically humping his boot. Now and again, he will indulge you with his fingers and, if you're really good, his tongue. But he hasn't fucked you proper yet. He hasn't seen the right amount of adoration to do that yet.
Plus, it's a very nice carrot he can dangle on a string for you, urging you to keep going and to worship him more thoroughly. Maybe, just maybe, if you show your devotion to him in the waking world, he might just give you the chance to see his cock.
Until then? You are lucky to be able to lick and kiss him.
Throwing my hat in the ring if you want my perception of Freddy is he's primarily a dom/top always. It's absolutely his need for control and power he's greedy for it always BUT I would say there is the instance of him bottoming/being a sub or at least taking a back seat so to speak but it very explicitly has to be earned and given. Like you're only inflicting damage to him or being given the "upper hand" because HE says so it's his command and that he is still in control at the end of it all ya'know. We are absolutely all locked in that he craves and gets off on that power and being in charge and we're here for it
When it comes to sex I like to think Freddy is absolutely a hedonistic freak every kink every position he admittedly does want to do it all at least one way or another. Be it to you to him whatever the fuck it is he will subject you to it and it'll be feral and hot as fuck. Like I just know. But I also can't lie pegging fics or the ones where Freddy bottoms are some of my guilty pleasures just because I personally love the power dynamic. Freddy still craves control he's not going to give it up so any "leverage" you're given over him is on his terms. You're only fucking his ass because he wants it and is willing to let you do it like he will somehow still immediately make it about how he still has the power and control in every single way. If he ever didn't have control I absolutely think it would freak him out y'all are so right
Being the top/dom/whatever you wanna call him is just his immediate go to, it's effective and absolutely what he wants and gets off on in every way but I love like a push and pull dynamic if it makes sense. Like for me and my selfship insert junk wrestling and fighting with him is foreplay and there's like maybe one time out of fifty he'll give up and pretend to lose just because he wants to be the one penetrated or something like that- but don't forget he let you win type shit. I've probably said the same thing about five times over but I like my Freddy with a little bend and that he actually does like being the one penetrated every once and a while but it absolutely has to be on his terms and he's very demanding.
Like bending over his work desk and dropping his pants because he wants it, kinda slutty in all honesty but he likes playing that game. And he will ABSOLUTELY still scratch you up and tell you that you better fuck him good and rough the way he wants it/likes it or you're gonna be dead meat. Even underneath he's still biting and scratching and taking what he wants/demanding it and you still need to know that he's the man large and in charge all that fun freaky stuff
I am literally so chill with everyone having different perceptions of Freddy like I genuinely love hearing from you from anon from everyone! Even if I'm kinda like the "but what if Freddy took it up the ass and bottomed" guy in all of this lmao. I wanna hear what everyone has to say about Freddy ever because I'm just a horny loser with the biggest listening ears on ever :D
I'm absolutely the same, I love seeing all the different headcanons that people have for Freddy because like!!! YEAH!!!! MORE FREDDY CONTENT PLS!!!!! Top, Bottom, Dom, Sub, Left, right, up, down- ANYTHING! ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )و✧*｡
Personally, I always imagine Freddy dominant but I'm also a like screaming, whining, limp spined sub so that's probably a big part of it. The only dominant I can be is a Service Top. Regardless; Freddy feels dominant normally. He's pushy, grabby and knows what he wants and also has the power to take it. Being a serial killer was an obvious grab for power, especially going after children. So it makes sense that as a demon he would be equally power hungry and cruel.
I do like the idea that he is, at the end of the day (or night?), Burnt Demon Freddy is still susceptible to the laws of Shit Happens. We see it in Freddy vs Jason and it's just so funny. He backs a victim up over the edge of a catwalk accidentally and just..."Oh." So now and again you catch him off guard and get to hear him pause and have to actually think for a bit. Or accept that something didn't go the way he had planned.
ALL THAT BEING SAID
I do love Freddy being a snappy, angry, demanding bottom. Smug and snarky as he tells you to fuck him right or not at all but don't even THINK that you're in charge for one fucking second. If he could he would just take your dick off and do it himself. Which, side note, he has definitely cloned himself to fuck himself in the ass. No questions asked I just KNOW that's happened.
Pinhead can walk him like a dog and I KNOW the SECOND Freddy saw Jason he was just CHOMPING at the bit. Although I'm sure the fact Jason is unwilling to take orders from anyone but his mom made it tough.
I just got my nails done so I'm gonna turn it into something sexy.
Hi I'm new! So imagine getting your nails done and all day the only thing you can think of is getting railed by him and clawing at his back. So you go home and get changed into pretty blue lingerie. You then hop in bed and start to sleep.
And then in the dream world you get railed while clawing up his back
Moth you're not gunna believe it but I JUST GOT MY NAILS DONE TODAY TOO!!! So I am very ready to answer this ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
For Freddy, the sharper the better too. So if you like getting long, sharp claws (like myself heheh) it just means he expects you to really use them on him. No holding back, no shying away. If his back isn't left in shreds you haven't gone hard enough. If he thinks you're going easy on him, he fucks you harder or teases you a bit just to get you frustrated enough to start digging those nails in.
Knowing how sharp my own nails are, I can only imagine how good it would be to start slowly tracing them over his head in a very tender gesture only for it to quickly become violent and hard. Digging them into his skin and letting it bleed down the back of his head onto his face. Maybe he'd ask you to use them to stroke his cock, teasing the sensitive, burned flesh with the sharp tips.
I have to say, you and rotten entity are like my life! You two are so open and intense in your descriptions of Freddy that I just melt 🫠❤️
Anyway!
I just wanted to give my own fantasies for you guys~
Freddy using an iron rod in my holes after making sure I'm wet enough to take it, and only then fucking me with his cock. And, oh boy, always using his blades to cut me (deliberate or otherwise) while he does so. Just to see the blood flow and me twitching. He's a sadistic bastard like that
Or Freddy grinding against my body while I'm asleep while I dream of him fucking me or biting me.
I love the idea of Freddy being into biting and being bitten xP
And licking blood
And kissing so deeply his longue tongue is way down your throat
And definitely FEELING his skin!
Agh, it drives me crazy!
Ouuugggg I do especially love the Grinding, biting and general overwhelm Freddy can cause just by being him.
Like dick in you, tongue down your throat, blades cutting you, and lord knows what else he decides to manifest to help in the overwhelm (ᵔཀᵔ) and I'm so so into grinding/cock warming and on him with the burns and texture I feel like it'd be just Maddening like cumming over and over again with little to no effort on his part and he just eats it up. Teasing you for how easy it is to make you cum only to threaten to do more or for things to get more intense.
