ANSOP Chapter Eighteen ACTIVELY BEING WRITTEN AS YOURE READING THIS unless I'm asleep, going to the bathroom or maintaining my person skills (music/painting/etc not gooning) (i do that on company time)
dreamtale but the negativity apple is a metaphor for homosexuality and the townspeople are a homophobic christian town and dream devotes his life to protecting everyone from nightmares homosexuality send tweet
I donât think youâd care about this, but I had some weird dream that I was reading a fanfic by you specifically where someone didnât want a Hersheyâs kiss since it was given to them by Nightmare, and for some reason Killer got force fed it and his eyes turned into those scary hyper realistic slit-ones.
I thought it was random since I remember it (in my dream) kept having repeating the idea that you made it. I donât know what that means, I think the fanfics have infiltrated my thoughts
AAAAA OF COURSE I CARE đđđ THAT IS đđđ IM??? HONOURED???? I THINK đ that does sound like something i would write
req from @triglycercule .. heard you wanted some knives...
mttpoly fic
read on ao3
Killer was not not a voyeur. It wasnât important to think about and he didnât tend to stick to labels so there was no use in pondering it. However, recently there had been some going-ons which had brought the topic to the forefront of his mind.
More specifically the problem was Horror and Dust. Killer had never put much thought into their weapons (not more than necessary at least) rendering it as unimportant and a stagnant factor of their characters, not something they typically switched up.
That was until one day he spotted Dust with a knife in his hand. And as if that wasnât enough, it was one of Killerâs. It glimmered in the light, well taken care of with meaningless carvings in its handle that proved it was one of his. And yet, Dustâs reflection was in its blade, his red eye lights casting lines of light that could challenge the brightness of the sun.
And his fingers. The joints of them held the knife in a tight grip, bones pointed but not quite as abruptly as Horrorâs tended to be. They were the difference between sharpened and chipped, though both dangerous in their own right.
Horror handled a knife with more diligence, not lazily and uncaring like Dust did. Probably because he didnât want to stab himself by accident. That was quite disappointing. Seeing Horror stab himself was the greatest thing Killer could imagine experiencing.
The little knicks Dust got were good enough though. He usually didnât even notice it, too caught up in the motions of his euphoric craze to factor in any damage that was being done to him. It was amazing to watch.
Like a machine, he didnât stop until whoever he was up against was dusted or dead in spite of the magic leaking out of him, staining his pristine (ish) bones and leaving a trail of glistening power in its wake. Killerâs mouth watered at the sight of it, and if he was not too far away to reach he would delight in licking the magic off Dustâs bones himself.
It was a shame Horror was so cautious. Sure, he looked cool, albeit a bit less threatening than normal, swinging around a knife, but the only fluids getting on him were from other creatures. The idea of Horror and Dust fighting each other with knives was another thing altogether. A shiver went up his spine just picturing it.
Close range, Dust didnât fare as well, though he was still a major threat. His reaction time was a little too slow and he was more likely to overestimate himself. That didnât mean it wasnât entertaining, if anything seeing him take unnecessary damage was exhilarating. That paired with Horrorâs hard hitting attacks were pretty great. If they were fighting with knives that would almost guarantee they both bleed at least a little, all the while silver blades dance around the air, pointed and carrying with them the certainty of pain.
Maybe Killer should look into ways of making that kind of fight happen.
TDICK I HAVE A WRITING REQUEST PLEASE WRITE HRDT USING KNIVES AND KILLER FREAKING OUT OVER IT IT DOESNT EVEN HAVE TO BE A [REDACTED] FIC I JUST NEED THIS đđđ ILL GIVE YOU MY LIFE FOR THIS đđđ
[redacted] youre so funny đ of course i'll write you a killer freaking out over hrdt using knives fic tri, i'll move it to the top of my to do list
I'm so glad some else feels the same way about the killer updates
im glad you do too! it's such a stark difference from the way he used to be portrayed, it feels more like its a different character altogether (mostly because of how much human designs are being used) It also just feels very "Im so small... protect me.."
i still love him ofc.. just.. an older version of him, you could say. What Im getting at here is i dont like the style of characterisation he's getting and triglycercule is making fun of me for it because they predicted this would happen đ
they call him killer because he's a massive killjoy smh
guys dont worry he gets his arms back beneath the cut
how does this work well uhhh human killer's flesh is held together by the determination that make up his body so if he gers a wound or loses limb (like here) the dt can just fuse it back together soooo. they pulled his shit off just to make these puns (typical sanses)
(includes a bit of knife use and 'vomiting' but its not actually vomit)
requesed by @tripletimer <3
read on ao3 or under the cut
âDo you want to be ours?â
It wasnât an offer, not with how Dust spoke it like a threat and Horrorâs eye bore into Killer, waiting for any sign of apprehension or disobedience. These were not monsters who were expecting refusal. Part of Killer wanted to say no. Just to see how far he could push them. To see what they would do to him if they were teased enough. Just thinking about it made a tingle go up his spine; letting them believe they were in control all the while they stepped into each trap Killer would carefully set.
A game he could never get bored of. Not with the sensations that came with it and especially not with each hint of vulnerability he could observe with each round they played.
Cold fingers pressed against the side of his neck, Dust tilting Killerâs head to look behind him at the other skeletons' red-teal eyes. Dust looked at him like there was more to see with each second. âDonât lie.â
A grin broke out on Killerâs face and he leaned close enough to Dust he could see each line and dot that made up the smooth curves of his face with perfect clarity. Out of the corner of his eye sockets he could see the glint of a knife in Dust's pocket; a hint of what he could have.
âWhat a stupid question,â he laughed.
Horror gripped his shoulders from behind and forced him to turn. âOurs to use. An object.â
As Horrorâs breath hit the side of Killerâs face he became all too aware of how he was surrounded by the two of them. The question of how hard it would be to escape crossed his mind and with each second that passed by he could feel Dust and Horror getting more and more impatient and his curiosity quickly getting the best of him.
In a flash of light he appeared at the door, not too far away from the other two as to allow them a chance to chase after him. In a split second Horror had thrown a sharp bone through the door only inches from Killerâs skull and Dust had turned his soul blue, keeping him rooted in place. Ah, well. He hadn't really wanted to run anyways.
As Dust took his time crossing the room to Killer he chided Horror with a glare, âDonât break it.â
Killerâs magic burned to be expelled, determination making liquid leak from his eye sockets and dampening the floor of Horrorâs room. Dust reached out to cup a hand around Killerâs soul, almost touching but not quite, just to see the way Killer would try to jerk away from it only for his magic to hold him in place.
âDonât tell me what to do,â Horror snarled, joining him in dragging Killer back further into the room.
With a flick of Dustâs magic he pulled Killerâs soul down and thus his body followed, dropping to his knees in front of Dust while he continued to stain his own lower face.
Horror wrapped his arm around Killer's shoulder to smudge the black gunk across each bump of his teeth. âI want its mouth.â
Killer bit down on his thumb and delighted in the curse it got out of him before a slap with enough force to turn his head struck the side of his skull. Killerâs breath was shaky, the pleasant burn past his eye sockets enough to let him sink into it when Horror dug his fingers into the side of his cheek and yanked him around to face him yet again.
"Have fun with that," Dust shrugged, now wielding the knife in his hand with the expertise of an amateur, in Killer's opinion.
He dragged a teasing line along the backside of his femur, only enough pressure to make him feel the sharp end glide across bone, not even enough to leave a mark for a few seconds.
Dust must've been getting impatient too because he swiped the knife down to the bottom of his thigh, quick and deep and burning. Red flowed around the cut and dripped down his leg at a rapid pace. The next cut was shorter but equally as deep, sudden enough to make Killer's leg jerk. Dust made a sound of satisfaction and dropped the knife to trail his fingers through the blood that was bubbling out of the marks, dark and familiar and thrilling.
"Open your mouth," Horror demanded but didn't give Killer the opportunity to follow through with it before he was taking actions into his own hands and hooking his thumb through the side of Killer's mouth while his jaw was still hanging limp slightly. Killer jumped but Dust quickly had a grip on his arms, pressing them to the small of his back so he was leaning forward, pushing him into Horror's hands.
Using one hand to hold Killer in place, Dust reached his other out to drift beneath the fabric of Killer's shorts, "Summon something," he ordered, and Killer smiled around the finger in his mouth.
Horror summoned his own ecto, red skin with a damp sheen to it, an uncomfortable amount of sweat that would've made Killer drool even if his mouth was empty. Killer leaned closer to shove the finger further down his throat. Saliva dripped out of his mouth and joined the puddle building up beneath him. In a flash of blue light his ecto snapped into form as well. Horror pulled his hand away and rubbed it off on Killer's shirt but Dust fingers were quick to replace Horror's thumb, collecting saliva on the two digits before pulling them out and tugging down Killer's shorts while Horror did the same for himself.
Killer opened his mouth at the sight of Horror's cock, hard and right in front of him. He looked up at Horror and moved forward as much as he could with Dust's grip on him.
Horror pulled him closer, making both Killer and Dust stumble.
"Watch it." Dust hissed.
Horror rolled his eye and held the back of Killer's skull when he began to lick circles around the tip of his cock. Dust eased a finger into his ass, ignoring the muscles clenching around it as he quickly slid in another. The burn of it left a pit in Killer's stomach and he tried his best not to lean back into the fingers, focusing on keeping his mouth occupied with Horror's tip. He pulled at Dust's grip on his hands to no avail or course, only earning a tighter grip and a hard thrust of fingers inside him.
Horror scoffed and used his grip on Killer's skull to push him deeper onto his cock, hitting the back of his throat and making him gag around it. He struggled backwards until Dust readjusted his hold on him and got a grip on his shoulder to keep him still, scissoring his fingers back and forth inside him.
Killer swallowed around the cock in his mouth, stretching his jaw open wide enough to fit it inside. His teeth just barely grazed the skin and he briefly considered biting down a little bit to make Horror nervous. Horror dragged him up and down around him and his eye sockets snapped shut as he gagged and his mouth was suddenly full of the same black liquid that leaked from his eyes. It dripped out alongside the saliva, thick and wet and allowing Horror to move in and out of his mouth with more ease than before, the room quickly full of wet gags, clicks and grunts.
Dust fit another finger in just as the two had gotten tolerable, flexing them inside as if to tease him, it eased a gargled whine out of Killer.
"Fuck," Horror gasped, throbbing inside Killer's mouth. His tongue trailed around the underside of it all the while Horror pushed him from the base to the tip with little care for his struggling.
Dust without word removed his fingers and slid both of his hands around Killer's thighs, lifting him up just enough to fit his own legs underneath. Killer grabbed onto Horror's hips to keep his balance, head light and distant while Dust adjusted his tip to Killer's stretched out entrance.
As Dust shoved himself in Killer choked hard enough to force himself off Horror despite the hold he had on the back of his skull, coughing up black strands of liquid onto the ground. Horror said something he couldn't hear over the rushing in his head but it was followed by him reinstating his hold on Killer's skull and shoving him back down the length of his penis, right until his teeth were pressed against his pelvis, squirming and coughing. He had to wait until Horror pushed him away, directly into Dust's arms.
Another, thicker trail of the black liquid followed Killer as he pulled away, staining Horror's cock. A moan slipped out from his teeth at the sight, although it might've also been from Dust guiding him down around his penis, his fingers digging into the ridges of his bones.
As he settled around Dust, he reached back out for Horror, opening his mouth wider and ignoring each drop of black that leaked from it.
Horror laughed at him, "How stupid is this thing?" he mused to Dust, faux- disbelief in his tone.
"Works fine," Dust shrugged, pulling out of Killer and shoving him forward onto the floor with Horror stepping away to avoid catching him, subsequently letting Killer's skull drop into the puddle of black he had created. Dust moved his grip on Killer to the dip of his pelvic bone and pushed back in.
Killer groaned and lifted himself onto shaky forearms, watching as strings of saliva coated in black followed him up for half a second before snapping and rejoining the dark stain, his soul casting a red glow on the lower half it. If his vision wasn't hazy he would've been able to see the way it had stained his entire face.
He would've collapsed under his own weight when Dust started thrusting into him had Horror not lowered himself onto his knees in front of him and grabbed his face, dragging him down so he could resume lapping at his cock, licking up the black tears he had left on him while trying to ignore the way his soul was close to squirming out of place.
Stage two was not made to take the barrage of emotions passing through him, but if the soul began to slip into Stage One Dust and Horror's use of him would not be fun for much longer. He leaned his weight into his left arm and used his spare hand to glide along the lower half of Horror's dick, spreading the moisture across the red skin with glee.
As Dust's pace began to speed up Killer rocked back and forth, and when Dust pushed in Horror pulled back, passing him between them both. It wasn't long until Horror's jerks were becoming unpredictable, pushing Killer further down again in search of his own pleasure. He held Killer in place as he came deep in his throat, just to watch him try to twitch away and consequently push Dust further deeper inside him.
When Horror's cock fell out from Killer mouth he dragged a line along the bottom row of his teeth with his thumb and then lathering the wetness he had collected from it onto Killer's tongue. He gave the side of his face a slap that would be considered gentle for him before moving away out of Killer's line of sight and letting him drop back into the black puddle.
The sound of skin slapping against wet skin made it hard to hear where Horror was going and it was easier to focus on the thrusts which were almost hitting him pleasurably but not quite, forced to take Dust until he was finished.
Dust trailed his hand along the cuts on his thigh, pressing down to hear the whines it would draw from Killer. When he pulled his hand away they were dripping red.
Without slipping out of him Dust pulled him back onto his lap running his hand across the bottom of Killer's stomach. "Switch ectos."
Killer clenched down on his cock and squirmed around it, impossible to stay still.
Dust's hand traveled down to the cuts again, smiling to himself at the bloodied mess marking him. "Are you listening? Switch."
His fingers on the cuts had Killer's eye lights flickering shut, too nice a feeling to not get lost in.
"Are you serious?" Horror's voice came from close to his side, "Junk like this can't even think."
He was broken out of his haze when fingers wrapped around his soul, eye lights snapping open and latching onto Horror. "About time," He grumbled.
"Switch ectos," Dust repeated and Killer didn't need to think before obeying, fake skin changing forms in a split second. Horror dropped down in front of him and took him from Dust's lap, black dripping onto both of their thighs.
He grabbed Killer's hand and made him stroke his cock back into hardness, although it was more accurately just Horror moving Killer's hand around as it was hanging uselessly limp from his side.
Soon he was adjusting himself to push into Killer' hole, sliding in with ease and twitching with sensitivity. He held Killer's hips to keep his still when he bottomed out inside him. He dropped his head onto Horror's shoulder, rubbing the black mess all over it while the other was too distracted to notice.
Lost in the thoughtlessness in his own head he didn't realise Dust was behind him until he felt a second cock-head pressing against his entrance. It slipped in right next to Horror's dick, Killer's tight walls keeping them pressed together as Dust slid inside. Killer squeezed around it, pressing his skull harder against Horror to muffle the sound begging to slip out of his mouth.
There was only a second where they both were still inside him before Horror thrust up and hit a spot deep inside that made him shout. Dust followed closely after, settling a grip on his hips and bouncing him up and down without care for the fast pace Horror had set.
Horror and Dust rubbing against each other had slick running down onto the ground around them, each thrust having a wet clicking sound. They both seemed too big inside him, and the cold hands grabbing onto him felt like all too much. His head was going blank and not in the pleasant way from before; in a way where things were getting further away and Stage Three was getting close to emerging.
The cuts on his femur kept grazing against Dust and the pain kept him near the front of his mind, even as he was beginning to feel out of control of his body. He was limp against Horror even as they both continued to use him as they pleased, and though it was getting foggy and hard to think, the feeling he got from being useful had him smiling into Horror's shoulder.
