#driller killer imagine

[imaginethatneathuhpartdos]

I mean... I wouldn't it...

Imagine # 1,053

Gifs NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*I might extend this at some point, but for now just enjoy this snippet.

[macabrebatz]

The Driller Killer Relationship Headcanons

Author's Note: Here’s some old headcanons I wrote for the Driller Killer. Hope you enjoy!

Request from:

Warnings/other notes: Mention of canon typical violence, slight innuendo

Type: Headcanons

• Being in a relationship with the Driller Killer is as fun as you'd expect it to be.

• Your relationship started how most interactions with the Driller Killer start, in a dream.

• Expect lots of music while you're around him. He loves rock music and he also enjoys being introduced to new music.

• He's really affectionate...like really, really affectionate.

• He honestly will kiss you anytime he has a chance.

• He's also really huggy person. He loves to be able to hold you.

• That being said, cuddling is also something he highly enjoys.

• Speaking of cuddling, let him be little spoon once in a while. He won't admit it, but he wants to be little spoon sometimes.

• Also his libido is through the roof. Take what you will from that information.

• Unlike Freddy Krueger, The Driller Killer doesn't have to be pulled out of a dream. He can come out and into reality whenever he likes. So you don't have to dream to be able to see him.

• He's actually a very jealous type. He can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. He may or may not go on a drill-guitar rampage if he thinks someone is hitting on you.

• He's also super protective.

• He's stronger than he looks. Like...way stronger. It might have something to do with being a supernatural dream killer, but who knows?

• That being said, he likes to surprise you sometimes and pick you up from behind.

• He's honestly a big goofball most of the time.

• He likes to make you laugh. Whether it's from doing silly dances or telling you jokes. Just the sound of your laugh alone can make him smile.

GIF by dilfgifs

[skittlesking]

I've been mixing up some of the scales no- :[

[tawneybel]

Imagine itching to start your home improvement project, but the Driller Killer has other plans.

The house hadn’t been renovated in… how many decades? It was very eighties.

But not new wave, not what you envisioned. Especially in this retro-lighted dream.

Except for the mystery man you were dreaming about. Kinda greaser-esque. Pretty rockabilly.

Must be lucid, because it feels like I’m awake.

But there was your man.

Freddy, eat your heart out, you thought, as the rocker came swinging into view.

Asleep or not, you were more interested in rooting through the toolbox. Not that he seemed to notice. The musician was singing about his financial success. Did he think you were a groupie?

“I might need that in a few minutes,” you noted, pointing at his guitar/drill, eyes fixed on the wide array of tools you weren’t aware you had.

Weird toolbox. It was like a magician’s bag. Each time you pulled up the wrong thing, you dropped it back in until deciding it might be easier to just set them aside until you found the right one.

“You don’t need that.” The Driller Killer took the stud finder from your hand.

“No, no, I don’t.”

Your eyes slid over to his, surprisingly not calloused despite expert strumming. Maybe he used a pick most of the time. Nice gloves.

“Maybe later. Or next time,” he drawled, taking the tape measure. That suggestion also caught. What would it be like if he kept those fingerless gloves on while reaching under your nightie? “…when I can just show you.”

You shook your head and pulled up another tool. “I really want to get started on my project.”

The killer’s eyes widened. “You won’t be needing those,” he added, all but tossing the pliers.

“I think,” you said, grabbing his hands, “I just need these.” 

[marinerainbow]

Hey! ^^ I dunno whether your new job is getting easier or not but I figured F/O's can never hurt a situation! XD Either way though, here! Have some of your F/O's finding out about/asking about your OC's ! ^^

~

Imagine Audrey II humming over the phone he stole right out of your hands while you were messaging a friend, scrolling through the messages about some funky little weasels and bunny rabbit~ "Oooh, these are some snazzy characters, here, sweetheart! I especially like that filly, Shiny! She's got something, huh? Heheh." You try to grab it back, though you're feeling a sense of pride and warmth hearing the loud-mouthed plant compliment your creations in a way thats so genuinly them, but they raise their vines quick before you can reach it. "Uh uh uh, not so fast cupcake~~ There's more to find out about what goes on in that sweet little head of yours, isnt there, hmm? Heheheh."

(I don't know how Audrey II reads without eyes but he does okay 😅😅😅)

Imagine Harper squinting at your phone and holding it far away from his face, using one hand to hold it and one finger on the other hand to scroll on the futuristic device. He's definitely not used to technology but you sure love watching him use it like a grandpa- even looking as young as he does. It's very amusing. So you don't mind letting him play with it for a whole, around an hour, until he finally drops his arm and the phone to his side and flashes you one of those devastating southern grins. "Well, sweetheart, you sure are talented with the writin'. And those characters a' yours... I am intrigued. I have some questions for ya. Mind if we take a walk?? I could use some time in the great outdoors after playin with your lil device, here."

Imagine how the Hessian's eyes always linger on that commission of the rabbit in your room anytime he's there. He's always wanting to ask; questions boiling inside him about this unfamiliar Thing that seems to be something important to you. Something he doesn't understand but feels he needs to- just doesn't know how to ask. He's fascinated by you, and and there always seems to be something new. But that rabbit, that always seems to catch his eye.

Imagine Russ, zeroing in on Poppy immediately and tapping a commission of her with two fingerless-glove-clad digits; a broad grin spread across his face so that his perfect white teeth graze his bottom lip. "Ooooooooh, this one's cute! Reminds me of someone else sweet as sugar I know~ " He winks down at you, the smirk not budging. "You know who I mean, babygirl??... "

Imagine Scroop overhearing you telling a friend about your OC's, namely a 'Shiny'. You don't notice him standing tall in a dark corner until your friend leaves again and he creeps out on all those spidery legs and with a low hiss. "Shhhhhhhiny, huh??... who's that?... sounds fun." After you tell him a little bit about Shiny, touching on Poppy as well and explains that you have more too, Scroop's got a tiny little smirk stretching at the corners of his bug-mouth; his eyes alight with a fiery interest just for you and what goes in on your head. "... tell me more."

Imagine Tiffany snooping through your laptop when you go to take a shower and leave it open. What? Her ex husband was Chucky; she's learnt to be... uh... shall we say, cautious? Anyway, she's quick to check the important stuff, like email and such, but after deciding that you were good- she thought to peak at your open tabs. One was tumblr, and there was all sorts of interesting stuff on there! Her little sweet thing sure was creative!! Poppy was adorable, just like you. And Shiny was such a kick!- just like herself. Popshine was right up her alley~~ When you got back, Tiffany was reading through your fics with a glass of wine in her hand and a delicious cup of coffee for you, and she pats the the cushion next to her on the couch. "C'mere, babygirl! This stuff is out of this world! You really have a writers brain- gosh, that's so sexy. Let's read together for a while!- ooh, did you use the shampoo I got you? Smells as sweet as you look!~"

Omggggg I love this! But I'm also getting embarrassed at the thought too; these guys are reading my stuff??? My self-indulgent dumb stuff??? They read our conversations???? I... How am I going to live through this?? They weren't supposed to find out! 😅 But they LIKE Poppy and Shiny??? They like my writing???

Oh my lord, this is going to be on my mind all day AT WORK now. I don't know what I'm gonna do or how I'm gonna respond to thus. But thank you so much for this ask! I truly brightened my mood ^^

(Girl, Audrey II choreographed a whole musical number with no legs, figured out how to use a payphone, and knows where to grab prey. And you're questioning how they can read with no eyes? XDDDD what I'm wondering is how the heck did me and my friend not at all noticed the spider psycho in the corner trying to be Inkubus-)

[marinerainbow]

Took me too long to try this. You're so right.

I actually made more, but I couldn't fit them all on here 🥲

(No I couldn't resist the dirty gif of Russ. I tried, but I couldn't let the opportunity pass me 😅)

Reccomendation: Apply pretty hearts to pictures of your F/O's... excellent for mental health. 🖤🖤🖤

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

Attempting to guess what this means:

Okay. I said I wasn’t going to obsess over this but here I am. I’ve done my best to group things here so let’s get into it.

🦊- There is a comic in Endless Nights about a monk and fox who keep making sacrifices for one another, over and over. They are reunited in the afterlife. Sound like anyone else we know 👀

🐇- I thought I had a connection here but I’ve been informed it’s unlikely ig. So go read this fic in place of what I was going to say and let’s imagine this is about Pierre together.

EDIT: @vovertherainbow saw the rabbit and the snowflake and wondered if that had to do with Niko (because I forgot she’s not already there, like in all the phenomenal aus we have made in this fandom).

I feel like they are onto something. Yes. Let’s find Niko.

❄️- They wanted to do a Holiday Episode. Edwin loves Christmas.

🌽- Look, I have no idea. Children of the Corn reference? I know they’ve referenced horror movies in the past. Evidently the drill killer Charles was talking about was a movie, “The Driller Killer”. (Credit to @dearheartdont for sharing 🖤)

🐴-In this Gameo George says Edwin rode horses in life. What did you know George 👀

EDIT: 🌽 + 🐴 WELSH COB. It's a horse. I am dumb. Thanks @deadboyslullaby ilu

📌- If you read this phonetically it becomes “a tack”. Attack on what? Who knows.

🏛️🎒- OKAY I need to yell about this. The museum and backpack are a mirror to the pilot episode. We see the boys running from the WWI ghost in front of the columns and Charles is digging in his backpack. Just. What does this mean?? What does this MEAN?? I mean I’m sure they’d be back in London for this season, but WHAT COULD HAPPEN HERE?? Would Charles be more prepared for… something? (Or would he miss again?)

Or it could be a case in Charles’ backpack

🏫- I suppose this is a school. If it is… do they get to go on that case to a university George wanted to go on? Or is this St. Hilarion’s?

🖤- I am imagining this as Charles’ mood ring shirt. What happened here?

(Jealous Charles? Does he figure something out about himself? This could go two very different ways, depending on if they are investigating a university or like… the place they both died).

🤫- He could just be telling us to shh or like. What if a character now has yet another something to contend with (NGL, I liked that this last season did NOT leave us with any major anguish and a hopeful ending.)

ANOTHER EDIT: Okay I am not good enough at the sandman verse for this. There's a House of Secrets. What's really interesting about this is referenced in The Doll's House and... our friend Despair makes an appearance.

So does Desire. (Are these the black heart?)

Okay. That’s all for me. I refuse to be stressed about this though because we had a wonderful season one, and in my heart payneland is figuring it out together somehow

[mikimakiboo]

I need to get this out of my head

I have two ideas for crossover aus with How To Train Your Dragon and the Dreamtale twins-

More under the cut cause it's gonna be long

Also it's mostly about Driller and Errormare cause I love these ships but you can imagine it with anyone else really

The first one isn't that related to httyd, it's just that Dream and Nightmare are ancient guardians and by the time they were born guardians needed to be powerful to protect their things, in this case the tree, and so they were dragon shape-shifters, with a dragon form and an anthropomorphic form

Aaannnnd so Nightmare is a nightfury (male but with blue eyes) and Dream is a lightfury (male with golden eyes) because obviously

And then here come Killer and Error, dragon hunters trying to protect their village from the two furies roaming around, and so they track them and find them and,,, did they just turn into skeletons ? And why are the skeletons so attractive ?? They are supposed to kill them not fall in love !

But anyway they get to know each other and they teach the twins about basic things in life because the boys live outside, they don't even know how to hold a fork, they need to learn how to blend in with people around especially since everyone is wondering where they come from and why do they have wings that look a little too much like dragon wings because the wings stay when they tranform

Also they keep mistaking Nightmare for a female because of his blue eyes, he's pissed

SECOND ONE NOW

Killer and Error live with Dust and Horror as an independent group, they learnt how to train dragons on their own and are basically thiefs, they go from village to village to steal food, clothes and any resources they need

They often need to fight since they aren't very welcome everywhere because of their reputation so they are very cautious about stangers

And one day two furies land near their campment and there are two people riding them: Dream on the lightfury and Nightmare on the nightfury (I like this parallel okay ?)

Dragon riders yey ! But do they want to kill them and take their dragons ? Take their resources ? None of that, turns out they are just traveling on their own and didn't know there were people on this little island they just landed on

At first Killer wanted to fight them to be sure they wouldn't do anything but damn, this lightfury rider is actually pretty sexy, might as well seduce him instead

And Nightmare just watches his brother being flirted with, not realizing that he too has caught the eye of the second stranger: Error

Their dragons are the first to see they like each other and they help them by pushing them towards the other, or flying to an isolated location with them and refusing to leave

Anywayyyyyyy dragon romance yey

Also just for fun:

Error has a Deadly Nadder

Killer has a Hobblegrunt

Dust has a Deathgripper

Horror has a Crimson Goregutter

[akaneodo]

Next draw #1

Well, i don't have imagination so i gonna make this:

Yeah, i don't have imagination now.

[leafwateraddict]

Based

someone put me down

[venus-haze]

Mr. February (Driller Killer x Reader)

Summary: You get an unexpected visitor while looking through the February issue of Playgirl, whose centerfold of the month is doing absolutely nothing for you. Lucky for you, he’s willing to give you the real thing. At least, you think it’s the real thing.

Note: This is a ridiculous, raunchy, and extremely self-indulgent fic that I wrote mostly in three hours so take that as you will. The reader is a cis woman but no other descriptors are used. This was so fun to write because the Driller Killer in SPM2 is nothing if not outrageous. Shorter than what I usually write, but there’s very little plot to this. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), finger sucking (m. receiving), light choking (m. receiving) brief daddy kink. Dubcon to be safe since through most of the fic it's intentionally unclear whether it’s a dream or not. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Mr. February was not doing it for you. Blond hair, muscular build, and a boy-next-door smile as he leaned against the door frame of an auspicious suburban house with nothing but a toolbelt on—no matter how many different ways you tried to imagine the scenario, you couldn’t get into it. When your good friend Brenda had a girls’ night at her place, you lamented your sexual woes over glasses of wine. To your comfort, the other women present also weren’t particularly impressed with Playgirl’s recent offerings.

A little after one in the morning, you called it a night, heading upstairs to the guest bedroom Brenda was letting you crash in. Your other friends lived close enough to walk home if they wanted to and decided to stick around longer. Carefully shutting the door behind you, you looked at the centerfold that the group of you had bemoaned. How could it be possible that a man could be simultaneously so hot and so sexless?

You hoped the half bottle of wine you’d consumed would help get your imagination going, not that you hadn’t gone that route before. Undressing down to your bra and panties, you laid down on the guest bed. You grabbed the magazine yet again, as if staring at the nearly nude handyman would somehow make you suddenly attracted to him. 

Huffing in frustration, you glared at the magazine by your side. Brenda had given you the advice to cancel your subscription and try to find something raunchier, more tailored to your tastes than the generic guys in the safest porno mag you could possibly buy. The more you stared at Mr. February, the more annoyed you felt, his perfect smile mocking you as you slid your hand between your legs, trying to find some way to picture the guy in a scenario that would actually get you off.

Minutes went by, and nothing. He was too clean, too sterile, too perfect. You couldn’t picture him being able to do anything besides a pleasureless and mechanic missionary position that plagued the pill-popping housewives of old. Jesus. You’d have better luck with a fully clothed missionary at your front door than the schmuck on the glossy pages of the magazine. 

You threw your arm over your eyes, thinking instead about how much you’d like to kick Mr. February in the toolbelt. Sleep caught up with you more quickly than you expected, because your frustrated, horny brain seemed to conjure up a man that was far more to your taste. Your limbs felt odd as you sat up from the bed upon hearing a low whistle come from his lips as he stood on the other side of the room.

“This all for me?” he asked.

Black haired and leather-clad with a smile that made you squeeze your thighs together, he stalked closer to you, his tongue darting out from between his sharp teeth. His wild eyes took you in with an intensity that was nothing short of famished. He wanted to eat you alive. Finally.

Leaning back in the bed on your elbows, you gave him a confident smile as you pushed out your chest, welcoming the attention. It was your dream, after all.

His hand ghosted your arm as he picked up the magazine at your side, looking it over for a moment. Shaking his head at the centerfold, he hit it with the back of his hand as if in solidarity with your disdain. This guy, am I right? He closed it, his attention on the cover.

“Playgirl,” he read aloud, before bringing his gaze to you, an amused grin spreading across his dangerous face. “Is that what you wanna do? Play, girl?”

Girl rolled off his upturned lips in coils that wrapped around your throat, rendering you incapable of answering. Girl was demeaning, mocking, as if you didn’t have a full time job that paid for your own apartment. Girl went straight to your pussy as you nodded in response to his question.

He licked his lips, tossing Mr. February aside as he caged you onto the bed with his body. You tilted your head up to kiss him, not bothering with any pretense of testing the waters. It was your dream, and he’d kiss you back how you wanted him to, pent up and passionate with the sweetest hint of desperation. Without hesitation, he parted his lips for you, allowing you to slip your tongue in his mouth, the warmth and taste almost making your head spin at how real he felt. 

Still supporting yourself on your elbows, you threw a leg over his hips, pressing his body closer against yours, only exacerbating the flush of heat that’d spread across your skin. His touch made you feel like you were burning, kissed by invisible flames that left you needy for more. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away, dazed and breathless, though his lips followed yours, starving for another taste of your strawberry glossed lips. His were soft, though yours wouldn’t stay that way for long as he nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth, clearly reveling in the whimpers you barely managed to let out. You were almost disappointed when he showed you mercy and gave you a gentle kiss before drawing back.

“Goddamn, you’re something else,” he murmured.

“What about you? Who are you?” you asked, searching his face for an answer. You must have known him from somewhere, unsure if your subconscious could conjure up someone like him on its own.

“I’m the man of your dreams, baby,” he crooned. “I got the tools to give you everything you need.”

He took your hand, placing it over his crotch, his hard cock straining against his tight leather pants. Your breath caught in your throat, he certainly wasn’t exaggerating. Squeezing his erection, a jolt of electricity rushed through you at his groan, deep and unapologetically loud as he jerked his hips against your hand.

“Not so fast, baby,” he said, his smile almost mischievous, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

He hissed through his teeth when you pulled your hand away from his pants, pride bubbling in you for eliciting such a reaction from him, and over his clothes no less. Still, he wanted to take the lead, and after so much frustration on your end trying to make Mr. February fulfill something other than a wonderbread fantasy, you were more than happy to lie back and let your dream lover do the work. He shed his jacket, kicking it to the edge of the bed.

Rough hands glided across your skin, a shiver racing down your spine until he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulled them down until he threw the garment on the other side of the room. He pushed your thighs apart, and you released a shaky breath in futile preparation for how his tongue would feel on your pussy.

He sure as hell didn’t beat around the proverbial bush, his tongue teasing your clit as he slid his index and middle fingers inside you, as if it’d at all be comparable to what you’d felt in his pants earlier. That wasn’t the point of it, though, not when he relentlessly lapped at your pussy, the sound of your own arousal on his tongue almost embarrassing you.

No one could hear it, not in a dream, so you indulged yourself, grabbing a handful of his greased hair and pulling him closer. He groaned against your sensitive cunt when you tugged on his hair, the sensation making your pussy clench.

“You like that?” you asked, your voice light as you tried not to moan out your question.

He lifted his head for a moment, a fucked out expression on his face as if you’d been giving him head and not the other way around. Your wetness glistened on his lips and chin, as he looked up at you. “Fuck yes, do it again.”

You tugged on his hair again, your fingernails scraping his scalp. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Damn, he looked almost…pretty.

His voice was close to a growl when he praised, “Just like that, baby.”

His face disappeared between your legs again, and you choked out a gasp as he licked up your juices before bringing his attention back to your clit with a desperate pull at his disheveled locks. He held your legs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as if to steady himself as he brought you closer to orgasm.

You could’ve sworn you heard a loud bang followed by muffled screaming. It almost sounded too real to be a dream, and for the first time since this mystery man arrived in your bed, the twist in your gut wasn’t from pleasure.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice soft as it trailed off into a moan.

“Nothin’ but a good time, baby,” he answered slyly. “You just focus on me.”

With a curl of his fingers inside your wet pussy, you couldn’t do anything but whimper in response, pulling at his hair again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, and with no protest from him, allowed them to shut as pleasure crept up on you. 

Your hips bucked as he flicked his tongue on your sensitive clit, and with that you were gone. Your moan sounded almost pained to your own ears, but you’d never felt an orgasm so intense before, one that made your toes curl and your pussy ache as it clenched around his fingers. 

When you were finally able to open your eyes again, he was still eating you out, as if to see whether or not he could make you cum again on his tongue. You whimpered, sensitive and breathless as he didn’t let up. 

His name. Fuck, you didn’t even know his name, and your brain was too fuzzy to come up with anything besides an almost pathetic sounding, “Daddy.”

“Say it again, baby,” he groaned.

“Fuck daddy, more,” you pleaded.

Gripping the sheets for some kind of leverage, you came, harder this time as you let out a moan that seemed to echo throughout the room. In the back of your mind, you were wondering if you were moaning so loudly in real life. Would they wake you up? Would they even mention it?

Licking up your pussy again for good measure, he lifted his head, looking to you for your direction. Weakly, you shook your head. He smirked a bit, crawling back up to you and pressing his fingers that had been inside you against your lips which you mindlessly opened your mouth and began sucking.

His eyes were wild again as you sucked your cum from his fingers, dragging your tongue along each one as you looked at him through hooded eyelids. He pushed his fingers further back in your mouth, his knuckles brushing against your lips. 

“You think you can take more, girl?” 

Your whine was muffled from his fingers in your mouth.

“Don’t tell me I wore you out already,” he teased.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your mouth before sticking them in his own, to your shock. It didn’t last long, though, because his lips were soon on yours again. You kissed him more passively this time, considering why you felt so exhausted, as if it were real. In a dream, you’d be able to last longer despite your pent up frustration thanks to Mr. fucking February, couldn’t you?

You felt too good to question it, and brought your hand to the side of his neck, caressing the skin with your fingertips before moving them ever so slightly to squeeze gently. He moaned into your mouth, and you smiled a bit, squeezing again. Placing his hand over yours, he guided you to put more pressure, and with the way his hips jerked when you did so, you were sure he was going to cum in his tight leather pants. It was a wonder he could even move in them, even if he were just a figment of your horny subconscious.

“Aren’t you hot with all of that on?” you asked as you moved your head back slightly, noticing the sheen of sweat on your own bare skin.

He grinned. “I’m hot with it off too.”

You laughed, until you heard the screaming again, but didn’t pay it any mind. Weird things happened in dreams all the time, and you wanted this one to last as long as it could. If not, you hoped you dreamed about him again, that it wouldn’t be something you’d have a fleeting memory of when you woke up, only to forget it the moment you got out of bed.

Unfortunately, he had other plans, as it seemed like you blinked and he was standing next to the bed, fully dressed again, his hair looking like you’d never even touched it. Licking your lips, you took in his appearance. The next time you dreamed about him, maybe you’d have him do something more interesting with the leather. He cracked a grin, as if he knew what you had been thinking.

He picked up the discarded magazine, looking at it once again in amusement before throwing it into the garbage pail by the nightstand. “You’re not gonna need that anymore. Not that Mr. February was doing you any good anyway.”

“Nope,” you agreed. “It’s all you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.”

You tilted your head, unsure of what to expect next. If you were lucid dreaming, couldn’t you wake yourself up? Though, you weren’t sure exactly how to do that. The clock in the room read a normal time, you knew enough that in dreams they’d be distorted. Sighing, you supposed you’d just wake up on your own naturally.

Your dream man leaned down, regarding you with a tenderness that seemed odd on him. He caressed your cheek, the cool leather of his glove giving a slight reprieve to your warm skin.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetness,” he said, giving you one last kiss before you blacked out.

You woke up, a cloud of grogginess still in your mind, a whisper of soreness in your limbs. You looked down at the wet spot on your sheets, brushing it with your fingertips and bringing them close to your nose. It smelled of you and something vaguely familiar, though as much as you wracked your brain, you couldn’t identify it. What a weird dream. At least, you thought so, until you noticed your panties on the floor, right where he’d thrown them.

[hippiegoth97]

Can you write some smut for driller killer?? I feel like there’s barely anything for him 😫🖤

Thanks for the request! I am a little bit busy with other projects at the moment, so I can't write anything 'new' per se. But, what I can do is give you a little snippet from my 3-part Driller Killer fic: Dream a Little Dream of Me. It's part of a dream sequence in the story, very smutty and taken out of context lol. I have no clue when the whole thing will be finished, I still have the last part to write, and some editing. But hopefully this will satisfy the craving for a bit!

Word Count: 1.6k

18+ Only, MINORS DNI: smut, swearing, grinding, dirty talk, heavy kissing, groping, cumming in pants (reader and Driller Killer), fem!reader

"Wanna blow this joint, angel?" The stranger asks, drawing your gaze his way again.

"Yes." You reply with a nod. Suddenly, the fog dissipates, and his guitar is no longer in his hands. All the people disappear, and you're back in your apartment. You finally get to be alone with him, which is all you've ever wanted since you first fantasized about him.

"C'mere, darlin'." He coos, taking your hands in his. He leads you backwards across the floor, taking you further into your living space. His ankles hit the edge of the couch, and he casually takes a seat. He spreads his legs wide, and your eyes instinctively flick to his crotch. He smirks at your shameless ogling, still pulling you closer to him. You accept his apparent invitation, putting yourself on top of him. The leather of your outfits squeaks together, and your knees rest on either side of his thighs. "Is this what you want, babydoll?" He asks, searching your eyes for any seed of doubt.

"Yes, I wanna kiss you." You blurt out the words, and he lets out a low chuckle. He doesn't say anything else, waiting for you to take what you want. You almost hesitate, wondering if this is moving too fast. But then you remember this is a dream, you can do whatever you want. It'll all be gone in the morning, so you'd better make the most of it. His hands release yours, allowing you to touch him any way you please. You gently cup his cheek, mostly for the purpose of admiring his handsome face. He feels so real, his stubble rubbing roughly against your palm as you stroke him. He watches you closely, eating up every microexpression you make as you observe his features with wonder. "You're gorgeous." You say aloud, meeting his eyes again.

"Not nearly as gorgeous as you, baby." He sounds so sincere when he speaks, meaning every single lovely word. You decide to stop wasting time, knowing you could wake up any minute now. You close your eyes as you press your lips to his. They're soft and plush, so full and perfect. You start slow, making small movements with your mouth to feel all of him. He follows your languid motions, his hands wandering to your waist. His warmth spreads through your jumpsuit, heating you up. "Mmm." He hums into the kiss, and you can feel him getting hard underneath you. His tight pants leave nothing to the imagination, and you can tell he's really fucking big.

He suddenly lowers his hands to squeeze the rounds of your ass, and he quickly dominates your mouth with his own. He shoves his tongue past your lips, and you instantly acquiesce to him. This is what you want, a man who can take charge. A man who can be tender, as well as play rough with you. He's everything you need, you just know it. "Mmm." You moan against him, rolling your hips once. You feel yourself getting wet, the sensation of his erection rubbing against your pussy is absolutely perfect.

"C'mon, baby. Light my fire." He says seductively once he pulls away from your mouth. He looks at you with lust in his eyes, using his firm grip on your ass to lead you to continue to grind against him. You moan loudly as his stiff cock presses into your clit just the way you like. Your hands grab hold of his broad shoulders, and you take over with a rougher, fuller rhythm. "That's it. Feels good, doesn't it, angel? To take what you want?" He questions, gazing at your beautiful face.

"Yeah. Feels really fuckin' good." You say through a quiet moan. You bring your lips to his neck, not hesitating to bite down...hard. You have the strangest feeling that he likes that, and he moans rather loudly to let you know you're right.

"Damn, sweets. You're a wild thing." He breathes, tightening his grip on your butt. He pushes you to grind even harder on him, drawing more noises from the both of you. Your pussy is very slick inside your jumpsuit, and having no panties on is making every sensation so much better. You can feel him through the layers, his cock twitching at you rubbing against him in the best possible way. You both push yourselves further, like you're performing a dance. Your hearts beat as one, rapid and manic. And you know you're in for an unbelievable high if you keep this up.

You lift your head to gaze into his eyes, and you mirror unadulterated desire at one another. All blown pupils and shuddering breaths as you build each other up. This isn't even the full extent of what either of you wants to do to the other, but it's fucking mind-blowing all the same. You bring your lips to his again, but he quickly takes the lead. His tongue explores your mouth, wriggling around in a sex-crazed panic. He needs to feel all of you, every last inch he can. You try your best to keep up, when he suddenly drags his teeth along your tongue. They're sharp, and threatening. The light sting of them meeting your wet muscle sends a dark thrill through you. He could definitely bite it off altogether, but he wouldn't do that. He would never hurt you, except in the sexual ways you'll no doubt ask him to.

"I'm getting close, baby." You whimper once you pull away to breathe. Your face stays close to his, your shallow breath fanning against him. Your eyes lock onto his, you want him to see the effect he has on you.

"So am I, sugar. You're really pullin' the trigger of my love gun." He replies with a smirk, just as wound up as you. He can't wait for you to come undone, to hear the pretty song you'll sing, to see the beautiful face of ecstasy you'll make just for him. You continue to grind together, sweating in your obnoxious leather as your high quickly approaches. You're so close, you can feel the waves of bliss washing over you.

"Fuck. I'm right there...kiss me." You plead, smashing your lips onto his again. It's messy and desperate this time. Gnashing teeth and flicking tongues, with no rhyme or reason for their careless movements. You shove your hands into his product-filled hair, tugging roughly as you keep him as close to you as you possibly can. He groans at your animal nature, and teasingly bites your tongue. It's a little harder than you expect, but he still refrains from harming you. He lets you go, taking his mouth away one last time.

"Cum for me, sweetness. Wanna see that pretty face of yours." He says, bringing one of his hands up to your face. He lightly drags his index finger down your cheek, gazing at you in admiration. His words and tenderness make you lose it altogether. Your eyes go wide, and your mouth falls open as your orgasm overtakes you.

"Oh, god!" You moan so loud, resisting the urge to let your eyes roll to the back of your head. He's wordlessly commanding you to look at him as you cum. Your thighs shake against him, and your arousal spills messily into your suit. You're practically gasping for air, as he's still forcing your lower half against his own with unbearable friction.

"Good girl...so beautiful." He muses, though his breath catches on his final syllable. His own release takes him down, you can read it all over his handsome face. He bites down hard on his lip, his eyebrows flexing downwards. He lets out a broken groan, his load shooting like sticky threads inside his pants. The two of you slowly come to a stop, still clinging to one another while your highs subside.

"That. Was. Amazing." You say in satisfaction. You press a gentle kiss to his lips, as if to thank him for everything he's done tonight. Letting you be the star, getting rid of your former lover who was a real thorn in your side, giving you one of the best orgasms of your life. He's all you've ever needed, all you could possibly ask for.

"Sure was, babydoll. But I'm afraid it's almost time for you to wake up." He replies sadly, not wanting to let you go. He's barely even started, and now you have to leave.

"Don't be sad, baby. We had a lot of fun. And I'm sure I'll see you again tomorrow night." You try your best to comfort him, your own heart aching again at the thought of being away from him. It's just another reminder that he isn't real. That all of this is just a dream. You'll wake up to find yourself alone in your bed, and be forced to live your shitty life again. You'll work a long shift at the restaurant, dealing with rude assholes who don't tip. And then you'll come back home to Indian leftovers and binging MTV.

"Promise?" He asks, worried that you aren't telling the truth somehow.

"I promise. We can meet right back here, and you can have me any way you want." You offer sweetly. You hold his face in your hands, giving him one last kiss as you feel this wonderful dream start to slip away. He gladly returns it, holding you close with a large hand on your back. You hold back tears as you say goodbye, knowing you'll see him again real soon.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers, but it comes out a little fuzzy as he begins to fade away. His body dissolves from underneath you, and you start to feel like you're lying down as opposed to sitting up.

...and the rest will be available...someday

[grayskiesandink]

Okokok i ship driller religiously but before i did i genuinely did NOT see the appeal, so i get you there. I do now mainly because i would think that killers hate for dream (influenced by nm) would turn into an interest- like a game of cat and mouse- then he would seek him out to play that game. His intrest would then turn into a sort of want then a need to fight only HIM and he'd joke n play it off like "we're meant for each other, Little Light!" Until he realized he only wanted dream. Dream's love would be a slowburn until he opened up or decided to trust killer and realized he did in fact not want to kill him anymore. Thank you and sorry this is so long ,^^

OUAGDHAHSH cat and mouse ships………. desire turning into a different kind of desire…… LITTLE LIGHT. In the kinda guy who loves the comedy aspect of it so I’m imagining killer being obsessed planning out how he’s going to find and kill dream finally- or mortally wound him, to get in Nightmare’s good graces. which then turns into wanting to kill him for his own reasons. which then turns into the “ohhhhhh I wanna husband him up. ah. ok”. but the entire time Dream is like “killer????? you mean one of Nightmare’s little friends????? he’s the one with the hood always up- no the like. oh the black streaks? ok.” but in reality I love the prospect of Dream learning to trust and open up. ok I get the appeal now lol

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Love a good Halloween ask game 👌🏻

How about Leslie Vernon, and The Driller Killer?

Great picks!

As for Leslie, imagine a truly terrifying, super well done Scarecrow! He would even string himself up in the farm and jumps scare the fuck out of you while you are trying to find where he went and he'd laugh so much about it. "Oh my God, you should have seen your face, best treat possible, fuck-"

And as for The Driller Killer, I could see him dress up as some Rockstar he loves, admires and looks up to, cuz he needs his guitar close, obviously. Or perhaps he could be Danny, ya know from Grease? The T-birds look and his are pretty close already and it's a musical. "You can't leave me hanging, you gotta be Sandy."

[marinerainbow]

"Time to kill the rabbit~ hehehee~"

*Handhold*

"Now it's time for the fun part~"

[pondslime]

⚠️ WIP’S??? FIVE OF THEM??? FROM ME??? UNPRECEDENTED 💀  

This is by no means all of the WIP’s that are lurking around my fic folder......but these are the only ones that have been plotted out to such a degree that I KNOW they’ll eventually be fully fledged fics. (Other, ephemeral fic ideas revolve around The Driller Killer from SPM2 and Lady D from RE8.....but......we shall see......)

If you peek under the cut, there are a handful of excerpts (of varying lengths) from all five of these! All of these are NSFW fics, but not every excerpt is smutty!

⚠️ mentions of animal death/slaughterhouse conditions

The killing served a purpose. It was the only way to get back to his table where he could sink into the movement and the cutting and the blades.

All you have to be is useful, Tommy.

If you’ve been useful then you’ve done enough. There’s nothing more you had to do. There was only one way to go when you stood on the ramp, and it was here. The cattle never understood that. They came because they had to.

For the first five years, there were always new faces to replace the old ones, new hands to help hoist the meat off the hooks. Snatches of conversation in his ears, the metal slam of lunch pails. People were always talking about how things changed, but it all seemed the same as it ever was. You just had to be willing to work, even when it was hard. Not everyone could do that.

Things only die if you let them—beyond that was dust and dirt and sky.

Each year, the drought held Fuller in her cracked, bleeding palm. She was the determined sort and the town fit so well in her grip. The crowds around the tables thinned, the timecards on the wall grew scattered and few. Throughout all those years, the fifth slot from the top remained empty.

Ten years is a long time to go without rain.

⚠️ voyeurism, stupid deep thotz from goofy dumb frog man

You’re alone out here—at least, you think you are. It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Comforting, warm—not unlike all the buttery yellow light spilling out of your wide-open windows.

You’re off the beaten path and there’s nothing to fear out here, no one to hide from. Nothing but the dark to watch as you reach up to fish in the cupboards, your shirt riding up your stomach. And the dark does watch you—it, and everything in it.

A woman alone in a house in the middle of the night. They’ve been telling stories about you for years. People have seen it countless times, stuffed into air-conditioned theaters, watching imaginary versions of this scene a thousand times over. If they exited the theater they could find her on the newsstand—she splatters the headlines, her name cried out over police sirens. They stay in the theater because reality isn’t what they want, not now. They want her. You, she, the woman past the glass—an unknowing siren. Mythic. The audience knows she isn’t really alone. They grip onto their popcorn buckets with greasy hands, the air thick with the imagined tension. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, hums along with the jingle on the television.

She’s beautiful. She’s innocent. She’s on the edge of so much danger. It’s sitting out there in the dark, staring at her through the window.

Maybe, through the lens of the pimply teenage boy, his hand fishing lecherously into his popcorn bucket, you like it. The woman in the house keeps her windows open as if she knows she has an audience, like she wants them to see her. They want to look in and she obliges. Maybe. There’s truth in that, truth in every adolescent fantasy.

You wander around your empty house, waiting for a man who won’t come. His appearance has been…interrupted.

Leslie peers around the tree, knocking his sickle against the wood in anticipation.

⚠️ references to canon violence/trauma

“What are you going to school for?”

“Um. I’m not sure anymore.” She sips at her coffee. “It was Marketing and Advertising, but I don’t know if I’m still doing that.”

“Not your thing anymore?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, huffing out a bemused hiss of breath, squinting out at the square. She sits with the words in her mouth for a second. “Sometimes I feel like it is, like, it really is, still. And then, like, I don’t. Like, I used to make all kinds of things. And I just…can’t, anymore. And when I do, it’s…different. It doesn’t feel like me anymore.”

“What changed?”

I lost some people. I put off a lot of stuff. I told her to tell him the truth, but I never managed to do that myself. Little hypocritical, Carly.

My finger’s gone. They never found it.

His pockets had been empty.

“I’ve had a weird year.” She looks over at you, staring at the buttons on your coat. “Like, really weird.”

“I’ve had weird years.”

“Yeah, but…uh.” She smiles at your hands. Your nails are a deep blue today. “Mine…was definitely weirder.”

⚠️🔥tiny snippet of smut, mommy kink + light puppy play

“Hold on.” Tiffany pulls back, pursing her lips. Tilting your chin up, her forehead wrinkles as she scans your face. She snorts out an incredulous giggle. “Is that my lipstick?”

“You, uh. You left it in my car. I…borrowed it.”

“You little thief!” She grins, her eyes alight with manic glee. “Always acting like you’re so innocent! Who knows what else you’ve snatched?”

Giggling, she drags her thumb down your lips, smearing the lipstick onto your chin. You gaze up at her, swallowing nervously.

“Oh god, you’re a mess, baby.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head. "You stealing my panties too? Taking ‘em home to rub that nasty little pussy on?”

"Uh—”

She grinds down on your lap, beaming. Holding onto your chin, she mashes your lips together, moving your head up and down in an affirmative nod.

“Yep, princess! I know you are.” She cackles, the tip of her tongue peeking from between her teeth. “That’s pathetic.”

“Mommy—”

“Watch it, pipsqueak.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, regarding you with twinkling eyes. “Anyway, puppies don’t talk, right?“

You nod enthusiastically, blinking up at her.

⚠️🔥tiny snippet of smut, light degradation, depersonalization + lost autonomy

The discomfort crests over and suddenly you feel loose and pliant, eagerly rocking back against the thickness of his fingers. It’s just another thing you were made for, just something else to give to him over and over.

Bo laughs. You can hear the grin that’s plastered across his face.

“Oh, she likes it.” His voice pulls another moan from your mouth. “This ain’t natural, baby.”

Of course it isn’t. None of this is. Wax carrots, stores full of beetles and rot. Everything in this town was the idea of something else. Things that used to be other things, left to decay and waste away behind glass. And you’re one of those things—you always were.

“You ‘member when I met ya’, darlin?”

The rest of the world keeps moving, thundering away. At least, it must be. The people that come to town and never leave came from somewhere, didn’t they? The stripped corpses of cars on the side of the street are reminders that life exists outside of this place.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t. That’s just the way these things go.

Here, who are you?

Another person at the wrong place at the wrong time—the wrong face, the wrong mouth. Something just wrong enough about you that you can’t leave. For how long, you’re not entirely sure. You’re running on borrowed time, and everything ends here eventually.

There, what were you?

The world keeps turning without you. It wasn’t going to stop. It doesn’t know of this place. It doesn’t know about you. It used to, maybe. But it forgot.

Does it matter?

To be kept forever, preserved here. It’s better to be something than nothing, isn’t it? When they touch you, you’re an idea. You’re a dream. Dead to the world, fucking yourself back on his fingers. It feels good, it feels bad. Something that is nothing that is something again. That’s the point.

“Don’t you be selfish, now!” Bo’s voice cuts through the haze of your brain. He grabs onto your hair, tugging your head up. “Thought we were showin’ Vincent a good time, darlin’?”