Chapter Text
Terezi Pyrope is bright and insane.
Her eyes have been on fire ever since the two of you were young, just three sweeps old. When she lost her sight, the fire didn't go out. In fact, the fire grew brighter, consuming all she threw her dead gaze at. Though she can't see through her eyes, she knows so much more than the casual observer.
You're name is Karkat Vantas and you have somehow escaped the cull.
Through your amazing powers of retention and get-go attitude, you have joined the ranks of the threshcutioners. Many have died for, by, and because of your curved blade. Hiding your place off the spectrum was and still is something that remains a growing task everyday. You can't get a cut in practice, you cannot get a bruise, scrap, break . Your secret is with you at all times, only visible to you.
Terezi sees that it remains that way.
You've come to expect her, to take for granted the way your curse is held safe in her eyes. Her swift reign of justice easily matches any resistance so far to you, and you hate her for how much she loves you.
Your relationship is a strange one, one you can't quite fit into a smooth grid. You're sure as hell not going to try and break her into pieces to press into place, but you still fear the drones.
Right now though, the only thing you fear is her.
She's harsh and unforgiving. She breaks pieces of you off and replaces them with her own. You wouldn't give back those chunks of her for anything in this universe or the next.
She sees you at your private block. No, she commanded that she come to your block. She entered your password, something you did not tell her, knowing she'd find out anyway.
She enters and she asks you how your day was.
“Oh, fucking great,” you say, stripping off your threshcutioner armor. You'd just gotten back from an assignment off-shuttle and you are tired.
But knowing Terezi, she didn't come here to ask you how well a troll had died.
“That's what you always say,” Terezi pushes out through sharp teeth made of glass and malice. “Tell me something different, candy boy.”
You hate her words for you. You love her elbows and knives.
You come up to her and lean over her in the seat she planted herself in upon entry to your block. “She was a teal just like you. But instead of having broken eyes she had a broken mind. Took a nasty spill and was basically a vegetable with the higher-functioning abilities of a sack of grubloaf.”
Your words say mercy kill and her face says justice.
She smiles even wider and you can see her eyes narrow behind her glasses. “I hung a criminal today. It was a delicious execution, the rope was a lovely blue color for the troll presiding over. The guilty was a red with the most delicious flavor.”
“Your lust for all things illegal is legitimately frightening.”
She leans up and brushes her lips against yours. “It reminded me of you, but not as fucked up,” she whispers against your face. Her cool breath teases your skin, makes it grow warmer and feel less tired.
You close the short distance between your flushed faces and she grabs a hold of you eagerly. Her mouth moves on yours with a vigor only possessed by the passionate and criminally insane.
Your own hands fly around her, hoisting her up and around your waist. Her legs lock there, holding her stuck fast to your bare chest. Her uniform is cool against your burning flesh.
Her teeth clack with yours and cut your lips. You break yourself against her sharp edges and the fragments get stuck under her skin. You are completely positive you wreck her just as much as she wrecks you.
You stumble backward as she continues to gnaw on your lips, not even really kissing you anymore, just trying to hurt you or maybe just trying to feel you.
You continue to fall back until your legs knock against the large sofa that comes equipped in most blocks. You turn around and toss her onto it, knocking the wind out of her. You shuck the rest of your armor, pulling piece after piece off until you're down to the pants you wear to protect your legs from the chaffs of the metal.
You turn back and Terezi hasn't moved an inch.
She's laying on the cushions, her short, spiky hair fanned out around her head like a halo of the wretched angels told about in your lore. Her glasses fell off and lie next to her. You take them and throw them across the block, careful not to throw them into something that might break them.
She lifts her head and her eyes roll to look at you. The red spheres lock on you and you jump on her. The springs and stuffing creak under the combined weight of the two of you. You lay on her, pinning her to the cushions.
She tries to get within snapping range, but you keep your face out of the path of her dangerous fangs. You're straddling her and you look down at her from your place above her. Dark hair and sharp horns, she's lovely this way. She's as beautiful as a wild animal and twice as dangerous.
You strip her of her gloves. They slide off her gray skin smoothly; she's letting you undress her. You don't care, she doesn't let you do anything. You always have to take it and hold tightly what you can. You lean down and press your lips to hers again. You take her in, holding her preoccupied while you undo the simple snap buttons on her vest.
It falls off easily, the garment soon being discarded along with the metal band displaying her symbol around her midsection.
You kneel down in front of her. You tug her boots off slowly and toss them aside one after the other. Once you start to work on removing her vented skirt, you see obvious signs of distress on her face.
Her eyes are half-lidded and her lip is being worried. A blush adorns her cheeks and you feel yourself warming as well. The arousal is evident on her face and it's making you a bit too warm under your belt.
You pull off her skirt and admire her in her leggings and long-sleeved shirt. The teal of the fabric makes the flushed parts of her body glow more brightly, a light-up sign of the things you are capable of doing to her. You watch her as she opens and closes her legs in anticipation, the muscles twitching under her skin.
You smile and lean down in front of her again. Your fingers lightly run their way up her legs and you hear her gasp lightly. You grin even wider, she's gonna fucking sing for you.
And she does.
You press your hand to the junction of her legs. She lets out a moan and opens her legs more to accommodate you. You press to her again and when she yells at you to get back up here you dumb fuck, you remove your fingers.
You pull her pants from her, her underwear coming off with them. She smiles sharply and sits up, pulling off her shirt. You reach for her immediately. Her spheres are held in place by a metal apparatus placed there solely to torment you, but you manage to detach the garment with little bloodshed.
Her breasts fall free and you do not hesitate to abuse. You sit and grab her by the shoulders, pulling her onto your lap. Your back to the wall of the cushion pile, she's straddling you and she thinks she's in control.
She is at the moment and she abuses her power.
She immediately pushes down onto your bulge, rubbing roughly against the front of your pants. She feels insane, rough, ugly, perfect. You scrape your way along her shoulders, eliciting soft screams and harsh coos from her. Your hands go to her breasts. You circle, tweak, pinch her. She cries out with each attack, her voice growing more and more erratic as you fight her.
She strikes with a vengeance. Her hands are wicked and blessed, and they make short work of your belt and pants. She pulls herself away from you to tear them off, viscous in her attempt to be tender. She takes from you, resuming your ritual.
You catch her as she's about to remove your last article of clothing. You can't let her, she'll think she's won and take that inch just to make it into a mile. You press her down, ram your hips into her. She doesn't moan or make soft anything. She growls at you, harsh and demanding. She presses back and her arousal is obvious with the vigor and degree of her retaliation.
You won't let her win; you're an official, goddammit.
You crawl down her body, the teal flush looking so enticing right now. She's actually docile, waiting to see if you'll harm or help. You make good use of her silence.
You're skilled at finding her weak spots, a map of her body you've formed over the sweeps of being collared by the cold love of your life. Your fingers press around her hips, the dip of skin stretching between makes her sigh. You rub soft circles into her mound, the sighs becoming cries of excitement. You move below and press a finger into her, her muscles contracting around you. She shivers and screams, your name is chewed up along with sounds and other noises that could pass for speech.
You unravel the stone-cold legislacerator slowly, building her painstakingly until her muscles twitch from the exhaustion of not being able to release. Your lips press soft kisses to the insides of her thighs, making her claw at the cushions. When your skin, lips, tongue press against her, she lets out a hard, short scream. Her legs clamp down on your head, your horns just avoiding being snapped off. You drag across her, loving her and every sound she barks out. At one point you think she tries to spit instructions at you, but she's too far gone to even form a coherent sentence.
You work her, replacing your lips with your hands again. She's shaking, not yet having been pushed over the edge. You decide to pay her a pittance and help her. Two of your fingers work at her, one hand holds her hip down. You drag your lips softly over her hips again, mapping her skin.
She whimpers when you press a tender kiss down on her warm-but-still-cool skin. When the tender kiss is followed by a harsh bite, she comes.
You bloody her, the love bite you inflicted pushing out her cold, clotted teal. The material that coats your hand is wiped off on the cushions and you admire her face. She's so beautiful like this, it's so sad she hardly ever lets you see it.
She hides her face or she covers yours, but she won't be doing that today.
You strip the last of your clothing and push yourself upon her. She whimpers, soft and sensitive from her recent release. You swivel between rough and gentle, your hips snapping up into her and loving, soft presses. You worry her neck, biting and sucking to show her associates just how well into the grungy threshcutioner she is.
She's careful not to leave bruises on your face and neck. She may want to injure you in a criminal way, but she doesn't want you dead. Instead, she marks the rest of you. Your body is a testament to how far you'll let her go. Claw marks, long since opened and scarred over twine with the training scars and burns from your armor. Her nails leave punctures in your ass that ensure sitting will be a difficult feat for a while.
You groan when you feel her come again, her muscles crushing and pulling. You bite her to keep your own exclamation in your throat. You've got the better of her this time, you've gotta keep it that way.
You calm down with your teeth still lodged in her shoulder.
She's panting underneath you, the sweat on her face sticking her hair and rolling off in beads. You kiss her temple and she smiles softly at you.
There's nothing more beautiful than Terezi Pyrope when she comes.
“I hate how much I love you,” you whisper to her, your voice harsh.
She laughs slightly and circles her arms around you. “I love how much you hate me.”
“I don't even know if we're red or not.”
“Who gives a fuck, once I move up to head legislacerator on this ship, we can have some completely disgusting rules about quadrants and their fillers. We'll have new social norms about what you're allowed to do with them.”
You kiss her, soft and once. You like that idea, even though you know it might not come to fruition in your lifetime. “I think it's red right now.”
She closes her eyes and presses her face to your neck. “Red as you, red as me. Brilliant red and twice as sweet.”