hibernatingsunflower asked: flush Karkat/Terezi God tier pajama kink?

Clothes Make the Man

You squeak when she's suddenly under your cape with her arms going around your ribs to inappropriately fondle your pectorals. You'd pretend you didn't, but for once she doesn't laugh at you, so you bite down on your instant denial and just frown in confusion at what you can see of her.

In other words, her hands half-hidden under the toothy front end of your cape.

She's groping at your heaving almost-absence of rumble spheres. You squeak again and try to bat her hands off, turn to dislodge her but she turns with you.

"Terezi, get the fuck out of my cape before I fly off, because this is a thing I can do now, I can fly away and leave you behind like an idiot groping at the void and... In fact I might do just that!"

Yeah, the novelty of flying hasn't worn off yet. Probably never will. Fuck everyone for laughing at you about how old hat it is.

Also the way she burrows under your cape gets your nether regions tight in pretty indecent ways, and you're... Well. It's still so strange to finally be dating, you don't want to rush it and pressure her with your horny asshole problems.

"I prpffzz a trdble," she says, or something like that. Hands closing on hers to keep her from squeezing, you crane your neck.


"I propose a trade!" she yells, muffled, through the thick, soft cloth of your cape. (You fucking love your cape. You love it as much as you hate Dave's, for pretty much the same reasons. Spittle is not one of the things you enjoy on it, but Terezi's spittle is almost not so bad.)

"What's going through your mind now, you freak?" you ask, almost mildly. It feels really nice to have her cuddled up against your back like that. She's so slim and small against your (finally, fuck you puberty) much wider shoulders.

"I will trade you your shirt and undershirt... for my leggings!"

You frown. "What the fuck. Am I supposed to wear your leggings under my pants, or as a shirt somehow? And I know your thighs are ridiculously bony but they're still going to explode the fuck out of my sleeves."

You can hear her groan right between your shoulder blades. It resonates through your chest. And then she pinches the tip of your rumble sphere.


"I will go around without mine if you go around without yours!" she yells, and headbutts your backbone. Ow.

You think her horns are caught on your cape. God, she's ridiculous, how can you love her so much. That's going to be a pain to...

... Uh. What?

"You will be shirtless! I will be pantsless! It will be a delicious adventure!" she keeps yelling against your back as she squirms to free herself.

You think about feeling her skin against yours instead of cloth, her rumble spheres pressed to your back with nothing in between your skins. Terezi hidden in your cape.

You think about. About. Oh.

"Refused for hideous unfairness," you say, because you're a moron of the highest order who doesn't know when to keep pressing his unbelievable good luck. "I'd be taking two pieces of clothing off and you only one."

She goes still. You wince and slap your face.

"Disregard that, I'm--"

"Sold," she says, and gives your chest a last grope before her hands slither free. "And now absolutely do not move."

You stand still, bloodpusher hammering in your chest and bulge half-out already.

When you feel the cape tug and Terezi brush against you it takes you a minute to realize that she's taking them off right here, right against you.

Oh lord. You're going to die. Your bulge is going to explode and your brain will die from the lack of blood, which considering your alignment is a fittingly ironic -- ghhh.

She dodges out of the cape under your arm, groping your ass in passing. You whimper.

The top half of her face is hidden in the shadows of her hood, which only seems to make her lips stand out some more through a mysterious process you can't quite untangle. She's holding her shoes in one hand by the laces, dangling from her fingers.

Her legs seem to go on for miles. Bare skin, gorgeous battle scars, the curve of her calf peeking out of the two halves of her tunic.

Knee. Thigh. So much thigh.

"Karkat. Breathe."

Whoops. "I'm breathing," you assure her breathlessly. The slit in her tunic goes up high enough to show hipbone.

It also shows a pretty obvious absence of panty straps. Holy shit.

Holy shit.

"Your turn, sir Knight," she quips, cheeks flushed even though she grins like she doesn't care, the little liar.

You catch the bottom of your shirt, pull it up, realize the obvious problem. Hurry to pull it back down before she can ogle your stomach too long. "Uh. How am I meant to take them off but keep my cape on."

"Oh jegus. Take it all off, stupid!" she yells. You glare back, arms crossed defensively around your chest. "I took my shoes off, didn't I? That wasn't in the bargain!"

"Oh, right." You blink. "You're kind of in violation, then."

She splutters. Hah! You try on a little smile.

"Does that mean the agreement is null and void?"

Terezi's mouth goes pinched. "If it is, then it means I am getting dressed again."

You yank off your cape.

Then you throw it over her head, because you don't want her staring, damn it, this is not a strip tease! (It kind of is. Oh god, your bloodpusher keeps beating so hard. You're a little dizzy. It's a good dizzy.)

You captchalogue your shirts. After the first instinctive flailing she has gone still, waiting with your cape draped over her head like a ridiculous ... you're not even sure a ridiculous what, but it's completely absurd. You might perhaps make a little snorting noise there.

"You had better be getting undressed," she grumbles from under the cape, claws digging into the edges. "Because otherwise I'm running away with this deliciousness and never handing it back!"

You pick up the collar and hood and bow to put it back on, so that when you straighten up the cape ends up stretched between your and Terezi's horns like a clown tent.

Her eyes on you make you burn. She lifts a hand to tease at the dangling edges of the cape, the square crenels, claw whispering against your skin, and your breath hitches.

"Just checking," she whispers. "You might be tricking me with gray paint."

You lift your hands and very, very carefully, you rest them on her hips. (There's a sliver of bare skin under your palms.)

"Just checking," you repeat. "For. I don't know. Seer tricks. You're wily."

Her lips curve under the edge of her hood, and she steps into your space, hands flattening over your ribs, fingers curving around like she means to hold you in place, keep you still.

"I'm much trickier than that, Sir Vantas," she murmurs. "You might want to check farther."

Her hands press into your flesh, smooth their way around your ribs, up your back. Her claw-tips dig in. You convince your lungs to draw breathe and your fingers to slip under the hem of her tunic.

She nuzzles up under the front of your cape to kiss your collarbone. Your hands curl around the back of her thighs. It takes Terezi going up on tiptoes to nip at your chin for you to stop hesitating, for your fingers to slip between her thighs from behind, find the lips of her nook. She's just as wet as you are.

You explore each other's skin with faintly shaking hands, with your eyes wide open to stare at the places you can't see.

Her hands run their way down, following hard-won muscles; you feel a little dizzy with gladness and embarrassment that she likes them, that she's attracted to you at all, how did that happen, this is too lucky.

She grabs a double handful of your ass. It's not even a surprise at this point. It's something you're allowed to enjoy, you think, right now, it's not a joke, it's not a way to stake a public claim, it's, oh, fuck. Feels good. You take the hint, start feeling, squeezing her the way she does you. The thick cloth of your pants gets in her way.

Your finger slips inside her and she moans, and you both freeze.

"Is that--"

"Yes," she rasps against your chest, and grinds her belly against yours. The size difference means she's right against your bulge. Your fingers tighten on her ass, plunge deeper inside her, and you make a very tiny noise of awe and desire when you feel her constrict all around you, trying to suck you deeper in.

"Oh my god," you whisper in her hair, face mashed between her horns. "Oh my god, oh my god. Are we, Terezi, how far, are we having sex. That wasn't, I didn't plan for this--"

She tilts her head back, laughs in your face, and then she kisses you. Her hips are rolling on your hand. The way her breathing shifts to match makes yours kick up another notch. You'll hyperventilate yourself into cockblock city if this goes on.

"Nnh. Nah. No pails. You're too sexy -- in those clothes. Don't -- don't want to stain them."

Oh fuck, the pleasure in her voice, in the languid way she presses against you. You're so fucking wet, and all she's giving you is her belly to hump. Not fair. So fucking unfair. "So you -- you get to come? And --"

She's stepping back off you, your fingers slipping out, and you grab onto her hip by reflex, no, she can't leave now. She flicks the cape off her head; it slithers down your back, and you blink as there is light again.

Then she takes the edges of her tunic between her fingers and lifts it until the end brushes her thighs. You can do nothing but stare.

Her hands are shaking. Thank fuck it's not only you who's completely lost at sea. Thank fuck.

"If we count my shoes as one item, because I am generous--"

You groan, though your eyes are still stuck, your bulge is still trying to fight its way free of your pants.

"Then it so happens that you still owe me one! Piece of clothing, I mean."

She likes the cape too much, so... "You do not mean my pants."

"It would be fair."

Well. Maybe it would be. God, another two inches and you will see her bulge. You can already guess at it shifting under the cloth.

And then she rasps, low and rough like old leather, "And I can't tonguefuck you if you're still wearing pants."

You're on your knees in the next second, her hips in your hands, mouth pressed tight to the vee of her thighs through her tunic; and then she groans, and she laughs, and she pulls the cloth free and lets you swallow as much of her bulge as you can.

From down there when you look up she still looks entirely dressed. You can see a glimpse of her eyes in the shadow of her hood, and the way her lips part when you lick a hungry swipe up her length. She drapes the tunic on your head and then you can see nothing but her puffy slit and the long coil of her bulge as it pushes past your lips once again.


Later you take off your pants, and you lay down on your cape and you feel like a ridiculous douche for being naked but for that stupid, too-soft thing around your neck until she throws your legs over her shoulders and keeps her promise.

You stain the fuck out of the cape, and spend another half-hour yelling about it. It decides to clean itself up while Terezi is busy riding your face again, which comes in handy later on for wrapping-ourselves-into-a-cuddling-burrito time.

(Cuddling burrito time feels way better with that warm, fluffy cloth against bare skin. Goddamn, you're going to develop a kink for your own clothing at this rate. Whoops, too late.)