Work Text:
Be Karkat Vantas=>
You sigh, utterly and entirely DONE.
Eridan is hitting on you again, and he just won't take a fucking HINT. Just because Feferi won't love you doesn't mean you have to go after someone from the complete opposite end of the spectrum nookwhiffer! Oh wait, but he doesn't know that, and that's probably the main reason tht you're still alive currently.
Someday they'll all find out about your stupid ass, ugly, mutant blood, cherry motherfucking red, and they'll all either reject you or just flat out cull your sorry ass. Well gog, isn't that something to look forward to.
On top of Eri-dumb, Terezi is driving you fucking shit-hive. You may not have feelings for her any more, but every time you seen her with that ignorant fucking Strider jackass or he clown freak, your blood-pusher clenches, and a twinge of that jealousy THAT YOU FINALLY GOT OVER THANK YOU flairs up like the bitch it is.
Oh, and not to mention, YOUR DANCESTOR DRIVES YOU FUCKING INSANE. All the time with the blood equality and triggers, and that fucking whistle of his and just ag, you want to punch him.
But, surprisingly, he is the only one who will actually listen to what you are saying, when he isn't occupied by spewing some hoofbeast shit of his. Actually no, not surprisingly, because he is after all just another version of you. As begrudging as you are to admit it, he does understand some of what you feel. Like how your blood is worthless, and if it wasn't for some miniscule shred of self-preservation left in your corpse like body, you would have offed yourself a long fucking time ago. Why you bother to stay breathing, you may never know.
And why you run to Kankri every time you start to feel really alone, more so than normal at least, you might have a couple guesses. But you refuse to think about that right now.
You're at the door of his hive, fidgeting like the nervous-breakdown-waiting-to-happen that you are. Just as you raise your hand to knock, his head pops out from behind the door, and he smiles upon seeing you. Your blood-pusher stutters, indignant at how cute that is- you mean, uhm, how he has the audacity to look so fucking pleased to see your shitstain self. Yeah. That's why you're blushing. From indignation and loathing.
He opens his mouth for a long-winded greeting as he opens the door wider, exposing his red, comfy looking sweater and really strange leggings that look amazing on him and his eyes, though white, light up like light from yonder window-
Shit. Motherfucking NO. You are NOT quoting fucking troll-Shakespeare about your dancestors' EYES.
His joyful expression quickly fades, however, when he notices your appearance. You suppose you did look rather awful: covered in candy red and bruises, clothes torn, hair disheveled, dirt on your face and hands. Kankri's eyes grow wide, and he hauls you inside, shutting his door quickly behind you.
"Karkat what happened? Why are y9u all cut up? 9h g9g, that is s9 very danger9us, 6ecause n9 matter h9w wr9ng it is and h9w triggering and 6l99d-shaming, sh9uld the 9thers find 9ut what 9ur 6l99d-"
"Don't you think I'm aware of that?!" you sigh, wanting to collapse in his hallway. You wander in further to find something soft to fall on. "It was Dave again. Shitstain wanted to strife. He already knows my color and hasn't told anyone, he just likes to remind me how repulsive I am."
Fweet! "Triggered!" he exclaims, and you expect him to say blood-shaming, but he doesn't. "I will n9t accept lying in my presence!"
You stop, holding perfectly still as you stare at your dancestor.
"Really Karkat, I th9ught y9u w9uld have caught 9n t9 my int9lerance 9f fi66ing at the least. Y9u d9n't pay attenti9n t9 much I say, d9 y9u?" He gets gentler in his manner and speach as he finishes the sentence, shoulders sumping and eyebrows scrunched in consern. But it's not consern for you listening, it's consern for /you/. Something so rare and precious to you that you just want to stop time from passing, stay here forever, looking into white eyes that actually care.
You get so flustered by these thoughts that all you can manage is a strangled "S-sorry." then you change that to a "Well gog, you coulda just told me like a normal multi-celled conscious organism instead of blowing that obnoxious whistle, f-fuckass." You cross your arms and look away.
"My ap9l9gies, I did n9t realize that my whistle distur6ed y9u. I shall keep that in mind." he sounded like he was just saying it; the bulgesucker knew you weren't upset.
Bulgesucker.
You shiver, trying not to think about Kankri in such a compromising condition, especially with, say, you. So, of course, your brain immediately creates a vivid picture of what that would be like. Kankri on his knees, eyes tight shut, lips taut over his teeth....or maybe loose, grazing you with a sharp molar every now and then, driving you tha much closer-
Shit.
No.
Nonononono.
Not happening. You are not going to fucking think about your dancestor sucking you off, at least not while you're here. No, screw that, while you're anywhere. Except your respitblock. No, quit! Stupid thinkpan!
"Karkat, were y9u listening t9 a w9rd I just said?" Oh, shit, he was talking. He sighs. "It's fine, I understand y9u are in pain. 9h, g9g, sit d9wn 6ef9re y9u fall 9ver! KARKAT!!"
Kankri rushes forward to steady you, because you swayed so much your head is spinning terribly. Loss of blood is getting to you. He helps you to a couch, then eases you down onto it slowly.
"There, is that any 6etter? Really Karkat, y9u have t9 learn h9w t9 better care f9r y9urself."
You want to make a witty come back, but you got distracted by the worried tone he used. Gog, could he stop looking at you like that?!
"N9w, I 6elieve y9u must rem9ve y9ur cl9thes s9 I may pr9perly attend y9ur w9unds. I must insist; this is f9r y9ur 9wn health and well-6eing, and I can assure y9u that I will n9t judge y9u f9r s9mething y9u cannot change, and I will n9t 9gle y9u 9r make any inappr9priate c9mments 9r-"
"Yeah yeah okay I get it, gog just shut up." you return, blushing furiously. You wigle your hands out of your sleeves, but when you try to remove your sweater by the hem, you find lifting your arms is incredibly painful. You gasp, droping your hands to a less-excruciating level.
"Karkat, what is wr9ng?"
You hate to, but you must. "Uhh, Kankri...could you...?" you look at your sweater, then back to him, silently pleaing for his help.
He...was that a snigger? Is that half of a smirk?! "9f c9urse; I w9uld 6e glad t9 assist y9u." Soon he had the garment lifted up and over your head, not hurting you at all, and folded neatly beside you.
You grunted your thanks, then shifted to get to the button of your jeans. Once Kankri notices the cuts on your fingers making it painful, he gently takes your hands away. You sit back slightly, embarassed to the fucking inth degree. Soft, deft, grey hands make quick work of the button and zipper, then ghost over your hips. Your body wants to rise to meet his touch, but you hold it back, face lighting up like a cherry fucking Gristmas tree.
Kankri's hands are warm and comforting against your skin, making every nerve ending explode and relax simultaneously. His claws stroke the skin of your thigh as he pushed your pants down, and you shudder. You can't even hold in the whimper you make when part of your boxer accidentally come with, and he has to reach slightly under then to pull them back up. Kankri either didn't hear or pretends not to notice. You wallow in disappointment when your pants fall away from your knees of their own volition.
He helps you kick them off. "There. Are y9u alright, Karkat?" he kisses yojr forehead, and your brain screams. You seem to black out for a moment because befoe you knew he was gone, Kankri returned to the room with two bowls and a rag. One bowl is empty, the other full of soapy warm water. He kneels before you - Oh no, not you again, brain - and dips the cloth into water, pressing this to your arm.
You wince, gasping in pain. "OW!!" jerking your arm away.
He takes your hand, usuing it to pull hour arm back. You are so distracted by the circles he rubs under your thumb that you don't even register the pain, and soon he is doen with that arm. When he reaches the other, scooting around your knees, he takes your hand again. Before you know it, he nas cleaned both your arms and the sides of your chest. Each part of you he cleans seems to take him longer, like he doesn't want to let go of your hand. You certainly aren't complaining.
Kankri wrings the rag out into the empty bowl, dips it into the one with cleansing water again. He nudges at your knobbly knees until you spread them, then sits between, washing soothing yet maddening circles on your thighs. His touch is so light, feathery, so caring and safe, you want nothing more than to cry on his shoulder, or maybe just be wrapped in his arms. Even the pain that comes from cleansing these cuts cannot deter your desire and the pleasantness his attention brings throughout your entire being.
Soon, his ministrations reach where your boxers begin, and he has to push them up, forcing a chirp from high in your throat. Kankri still appears unaware, continuing on until both thighs are sterilized. Your eyes shoot open, a gasp filling your chest, when you feel soft lips graze a particularly deep cut low on your abdomen, soothing some of the pain the rubbing caused.
Your alternate glances into your orbs. "Is this 9kay, Karkat?" He presses another kiss to your flushed grey skin.
You nod fervently, and he continues, trailing kisses around each scratch the Strider jackass placed. His ministratons go higher, higher, until you have to smother moans as he pecks around your grubscars, lap nearly full of your chatty dancestor who is being unnaturally quiet. Soft licks soon follow when he trails up to your neck, and your head lolls involuntarily. There are no more marks, and you curse this fact until he keeps kissing, running his tongue over your jaw so slowly that you let out a little impatient puff of air, almost a grunt.
Kankri meets your eyes once again when he is level, legs spread over your thighs, and your half-extended bulge can /feel/ the warmth of him. His stare is intense, loving, full of light and wonder and curiosity. Oh gog, you'd grant him any knowledge he wished, give him access to any part of you he was curious about, do anythig he wanted if he would just give up that stupid useless vow of chastity he made so many sweeps ago. It frustrates you to no end, makes you scruntch your eyebrows and nose, wondering why, oh gog fucking damn /why/.
Kankri looks like he's waiting, asking permission, gaze dipping to your lips, and gog you want to kiss him senseless. But you won't. Can't. Not with that damned vow. You couldn't hold back, couldn't stop once you get started, and you'd break him. And hate yourself for eternity. No. The answer is the most painful no you've ever had the displeasure to voice, and you're just about to, when he speaks.
"Karkat..." He sounds needy, wanting, and your resolve falters. "Karkat, there is s9mething I have 6een meaning t9 tell y9u. I...uhm, that is, I realized h9w futile a certain decisi9n I made l9ng ag9 was, h9w p9intless when it was h9lding me 6ack instead 9f all9wing me freed9m, and I..."
Do you dare to think it? What he's talking about? "Gog Kankri, get to the fcking point already before I die of denial." Except you might meet your end of that anyway, so he better be referring to what you think he is.
"I am getting there, Karkat, and I h9pe y9u kn9w h9w very triggering it is that y9u feel the need t9-" He shuts white eyes for a moment, cutting himself off, and you are surprised. "What I am saying is that...I gave up my v9w, Karkat."
You kiss him almost before he can finish your name, heady and full of your relief and anger of being denied what was yours so long.
"Why..." you mumble between sloppy, erotic kisses. "Why...did you...give it up...?"
Kankri doesn't answer for a minute, and your idea that he has an oral fetish seems to be a reality. He presses closer to you, hands fisting in your messy black hair and tracing your back and arms. Kankri moans like a bulgeslut, and you bet he is one, and that sends all these shivers that rack your spine and make your thinkpan go fuzzy, before he rocks down on your hips and your thinkpan explodes into color. Red.
You groan, pulling his damned sweater off and practically tearing the zipper of his ultra-high-waisted pants in your hurry to just be closer, so much closer. Kankri helps wriggle until he is freed, then practically jumps on you to divest you of boxers, mouth pressed hotly against yours.
You begin to think he might need to calm down a little, and, hard though it is for you, you roll over, pining his wrists down so he would refrain from gobbling you up, though you want him to do just that.
"Calm down a bit, fuckass..." You take a second to look into his eyes. "Kankri..." You almost whisper it, and his white eyes burn with their intensity.
"Karkat." he says, reverently, like this is the first time he has allowed himself to speak your name, like it is a privilege to utter.
That makes you want to take him all the more.
You gasp, collapsing onto your elbows over him when his bulge tangles with yours. Half of you wants that eager wriggling member in your already sopping nook, but the other half wants to fuck Kankri so fucking bad and it's driving you fucking insane with icy hot desire.
It happens before you know, exactly. You are suddenly balls-deep in your dancestors achingly tight opening, groaning and grunting as he squeals and clenches. You don't know who moved. You have no fucking clue whether he rammed himself onto you or you into him, but he is certainly doing it now, squeezing and contracting, channel fluttering around you and oh gog that feels so fucking good why do you ever exit his heavenly nook? Why is this the first time you have done this?
Then Kankri starts bucking, mewling for you to abuse him, to fuck his body so hard he'll be waddling for a week, and all you can do is oblige. You rear back slowly, thrusting back in at an incredibly fast pace then repeating, and Kankri screams in delight and absolute rapture. You groan at the feeling, at the expression on his face as you take him ruthlessly. His virgin nook already stretched abnormally, grotesquely wide for your thick girth, and now irratically as well, and it all just feels so fucking amazing, and he is suddenly seizing up and lurching, screaming and calling for you as he climaxes, and you follow, not sure if your babble is coherent or not, and all you can see is the color you hate most. Red.
You find yourself again laying with your head on Kankri's chest, and he is stroking your hair. You are still warm and sticky, but surprisingly far too cozy to bother cleaning up. You meet his gaze, uncertain of what you'll find.
His eyes.
His lips.
He is smiling at you.
Not in mockery either.
But in...love. Beyond the quadrants. Beyond rational thought and physical action and emotional attachment.
Love.
You kiss his sore lips, tenderly, and when he returns it, tears pool in the corners of your eyes.
"...Karkat, d9 y9u kn9w why I gave up my v9w?"
You shake your head, unable to trust your voice.
Kankri kisses your forehead, snuggling down for a nap.
"Y9u."