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Unironic

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Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and your best bro was just jacked up by some piece of shit troll who better watch his fucking back if he wants to live to see another day.

You could not even fucking deal with all of this shit. Knowing that your bro was having relationship troubles was bad enough. The fact that John obviously had not been okay since the game ended had only made that worse. The dude deserved some fucking happiness. You had all been through a lot of shit, but John was the kind of idiot who gladly carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it had proved damn near fatal for him.

And now this. Fucking. THIS. Rose had come up to you all nonchalant like, 'hey, why don't you make John some dinner since you've got the pro cooking skills around here,' or something else that may also have been paraphrased. And you, in your infinite bro-ness, were like, 'fuck yeah, I'll make my best bro some food' because, if you were really fucking honest with yourself, you will use absolutely any excuse to show off your mad skills. But mostly, you weren't stupid, and there was no way in hell Rose would ask you something like that if something wasn't up. And you needed to know what was up.

What was up was that Karkat had completely flipped his shit over an innocent crush and beat the fuck out of your best friend. Oh, no wait, had hate-fucked your best friend half to death. Complete with all the mental and emotional trauma such a fling might entail. Fucking perfect.

Never let it be said that you hid your emotions behind your shades, because you had done a damn fine job of hiding them sans-shades tonight.

It was bad enough John's face looked like a war zone (you did not even fucking want to think about what the rest of him might look like), it was worse that he had crumpled into a blubbering mess as he cried about how he loved Karkat, how he wanted Karkat, and how he might even think that he wanted to have the shit beat out of him just to be near that fucking troll. Now, you weren't really the type for getting really emotional. When emotion came around, you generally found a reason to leave. Oh, shit, left the stove on, house is burning down, you know how this shit goes, have fun with your crippling sadness, talk to you later. But this? You couldn't get this out of your mind. The brisk night air whipped against your face as you stomped away from Egbert's house, but you couldn't even feel the chill over the fierce rage getting its burn on inside you. And you knew why. You fucking knew exactly why this bothered you so much.

You had told him to do it.

John had come to you for advice about his feelings for Karkat, and what had you told him?

“You know what to do.”

Not “feel this shit out because maybe he's not ready”. Not “dude, he just lost a moirail and it's only been a week since you've been cuddling and shit, so probably take this a bit slower”. No, your ever-present genius had told John to go ahead and do the only “intelligent” thing to do and tell Karkat how he felt. The fact that he had decided to throw words out the window and lock lips instead didn't change anything to you. You had encouraged your best bro to take a leap with his sorta-moirail, and it had gotten him seriously injured.

You were the absolute shittiest friend in existence. And those bright blue puppy-dog eyes, so full of tears, that looked to you for guidance and comfort because they fucking trusted you? That hurt worse than seeing John's eye swollen all to hell, and his lips torn to shreds, and his earlobe nearly bitten off, and his neck bruised and scabbed, and FUCKING HELL Karkat was lucky John still liked him because you were seconds away from going “sorry John, baby, but this is what's best for you” and popping that shitbag troll's head clean off his fucking shoulders.

You sighed and looked down at the hand knit bag in your hand. Rose would be wanting it back, but fuck if you were going to do it at this hour. The sky was completely black, the wind chilling. You had spent way longer comforting John with delicious-as-fuck soup and empty-as-hell words than you had intended. The kid was just so fucked up. You didn't even remember what you had told him to make him feel better, if he even did. God you fucking hoped he did. You might have been feeling like a complete tool for helping him get into his current situation, but a wordsmith like you wasn't about to go in there and not have a few choice phrases to bust out like the sweetest fucking candy for an aching heart.

The streetif you could really call it that because there was no pavement or, oh yeah, cars—was completely deserted. Not that that was anything remotely close to being surprising. There was only like...fuck, eight?...of you living there. Actually, you didn't know how many people there were. And you didn't really care. Bottom line, street was empty, you were feeling like shit, and you just stood there and let the wind blow past you for a bit, mussing your hair and giving you goose bumps because fuck jackets and the horse they rode in on. Because, seriously? You kind of didn't want to go home.

Your house was fucking sweet. Obviously, since you had designed it. And you loved being at your super sweet house almost as much as you loved cooking meals for your friends at the communal town cafeteria, but you were out way fucking late, and you had spent a lot of time hugging on your best bro, and your brain was doing some serious fucking trauma to itself up in your skull, and there was some shit you just did not want to deal with at that point.

And that shit was named “Eridan”.

It was an absolute fucking certainty that Eridan was going to be a bitch when you got home, and while you could totally handle a bitchy Eridan on any other day, today was different. Today you had a lot of really strong emotions flying around in your head, and that was just not something you wanted to be bringing around him. You had an image to keep. You were a Strider, and Striders did not lose their cool in front of their boyfriends. Or girlfriends, as the case may be, which it wasn't, so fuck that noise.

It wasn't even that you were embarrassed to be upset in front of him, or that you needed to prove your coolkid cred to him. He fucking knew how cool you were already. The problem was you actually wanted to lose your cool in front of him. You wanted Eridan to see you upset, to be moved by it, and make you feel better like you had just spent all fucking night doing for John. That would pretty much make you die happy at this point. Your tombstone would read “he fucked his friend's life over real good, but got the best damn hug imaginable afterward”, and no one at the funeral would cry because they would be too damn busy being jealous as fuck over the bomb-ass killer hug you had received. But you couldn't have a bomb-ass killer hug, because no matter how much you cared about Eridan (and the amount was roughly one and a half metric fucktons), you were pretty fucking sure he wasn't as serious about you, and you were even more fucking sure that crying on his shoulder about your best bro's troll problems would only lose you cool guy cred and gain you zero fucking sympathy. Not that you would do any actual crying. No, you totally would. This shit was really messing with you.

Maybe you would just drop Rose's bag off at the lab. She'd be there with Kanaya tomorrow anyway. Your shit should be sufficiently calmed by the time you were done with that.

The town was honestly pretty damn eerie at night. There weren't any street lamps or anything because everyone kind of just turned in around the same time. No need for lights for any stragglers, those assholes could get a flashlight and shut up about it. So there were a bunch of dark, empty buildings sitting on a dark, empty “street” in the middle of a dark, empty town, and you knew there was at least one slasher flick that had started like that at some point. You would probably avoid walking around at night if you didn't already know you weren't going to get mugged. None of the buildings were locked either. There wasn't really a point. There was no one to steal anything, and if anyone legit needed something from the cafeteria or the lab, it wouldn't be cool to prevent them from doing it. You would know since you were constantly coming in at night to grab herbs or whatever from the cafe. Eridan enjoyed your cooking, and you enjoyed cooking for him. Or with him. Especially when he wore that stupid fucking apron. That apron was fucking hot. The way that bow just accentuated the fuck out of his waist and hips?

Okay, on second thought, you needed to run in the lab really fast, put that bag right the fuck down on the first flat surface you saw, and get the hell back home. It was all well and good to pretend like you were being this deep, brooding guy who needed some time alone for your intense personal feels, but the one overriding rule to anything else you had going on your brain was very fucking simple: Eridan's ass outweighed all.

You actually knew which room the scientists spent most of their time in, and left the bag in there. They had recently asked you to let them take a sample of your blood. Something about repopulating the species. Sounded good to you. Apparently Karkat had started with this idea of you and Jade hooking up and having kids. Didn't bother to ask any of the people on his shipping chart if they were okay with it, fucking gentleman that he was. John may have been dumb enough to actually try to smooth talk Rose (you had some serious laughs over that with Kanaya later), but Jade was too much like a sister for you to see her that way. Besides, you had already started sticking your tongue in a certain troll's gills at that point.

It had started out innocently enough. A master of irony such as yourself could not resist messing with the most unironic hipster idiot you had ever met. He was so painfully unironic that he didn't even understand when you were ironically agreeing that the shit he liked was awesome. And the attitude he threw around? What a priceless piece of fucking work Eridan had been. But somewhere in that perfect storm of shits and giggles, Eridan had taken you seriously to the point of opening up. He saw you as a friend. You only just barely recognized that by the time he was making awkward passes at you. It was almost too hilarious to handle, except that watching a poncey motherfucker in a cape act like an awkward schoolgirl around you was so damn endearing that you actually ended up falling for him. And in some strange way, it made more sense than anything in your life ever had. Here was the single most unironic person in the world. A person who could feed your need for total irony 24-fucking-7. You practically only had to snap your fingers to get his pants off with how far fucking gone he had been for you. The perfect boy toy.

You sighed as you shoved your hands in your pockets, heading back home to deal with whatever shit Eridan felt like slinging at you. He may have started out as a boy toy, but that didn't work out as well as you would have hoped. For starters, the kid had clearly been severely in love with you. It didn't take a fucking seer to figure that one out. Too bad you had been too much of a douchetool to appreciate that. Too bad you had just used him for sex and laughs. Too bad he had figured out what was going on right as you realized you might just love him. And too fucking bad your relationship never truly recovered. Oh, sure, he spent more time at your house than he did as his own hyper-luxurious hive (fuck if you knew why either. That place was The Absolute Shit with capitals and all because it is The Shit; end of story), but he didn't open up the way he used to anymore. You tried to coax him back out of his shell (heh), but without going fully soft on him yourself, it was proving to be more difficult than you would have liked.

Honestly, the fact that Eridan still stayed with you after how shitty you had been to him only proved how much the idiot cared about you. Not that he would ever realize that on his own. That would totally crush his tough guy cred, and he already only had precious little of that shit to cling to. Maybe that's why you didn't blame John for still pining after someone who had hurt him. You had been the guy hurting someone once, albeit not physically. Or at least not without consent anyway.

Every house that you passed had their lights out as you walked towards your place; even John's, and thank fucking god for small miracles at that. You only hoped he had gotten into bed before that little exchange that went down between you and Karkat at his front door. You had also hoped you would find Karkat trying to sneak his way back in after you left so you could plant a big ugly fucking black eye on that pretty gray skin of his, but apparently this new cosmos didn't love you enough yet to grant wishes that fucking big.

Your house wasn't too far down the street from John's, and from that short distance you could see that there wasn't a single light on in your place. That could mean that Eridan had gone back to his hive for the night—giving up on your ever coming home entirely—or that he had gotten pissed off while waiting, took the emo-est bath known to man and troll alike, and sulked off to sleep alone in the recuperacoon you had put in your bedroom for just-in-casesies. Well, so much for getting a piece of sweet Eridan ass tonight. You trudged up the few front steps you had and opened the door. Almost instantly you could tell something was off. Call it a hunch. Call it years of being ambushed by a shitty older Bro. Call it whatever the fuck you wanted, but you knew something was up, and you were pretty sure you knew what too.

“Eridan?” you whispered, as you softly shut the door behind you.

A small light flickered on in the living room, and then there he was: scarf double-wrapped around that slender neck in an extra-sullen manner, oversized and ridiculously colored v-neck sweater draped down to his thighs, the skinniest fucking jeans you had ever seen saran-wrapping his legs, massive hand knit purple-striped socks that damn near looked like legwarmers, and his arms petulantly crossed at his chest.

He was a vision of terrible fashion choices.

He was everything you wanted.

“Wwhere the hell havve you been?” he growled.

Chapter Text

You kicked your shoes off with a sigh. This was about to get real fucking fun.

“Eridan, don't be like that. You already know I was at John's.”

He visibly bristled with anger. Fan-fucking-tastic, it was going to be one of those fights. The kind where he wasn't going to back down, not for any fucking reason, especially not for unquestionable logic.

“You'vve been gone for fuckin' HOURS!” he bellowed, then gnashed his teeth at you for effect. It was supposed to be frightening or some shit, but when his more animal-like behaviors took over like that it was actually kind of fucking hot to you.

There was a single chair at the kitchen table that wasn't covered in shitty swords and bullet casings, but you opted to clean off another one to sit on. The only chairs in a Strider house that weren't covered in shitty swords were chairs meant for fucking on.

“C'mon, Eridan,” you half-whined because you were half-not-wanting-to-put-up-with-his-shit-right-now. “The kid was really jacked up. Karkat forcibly made a kismesis out of him then tore him to shreds.”

Even you could see Eridan's peevish demeanor soften a bit at that.

“Plus, you know, the whole emotional trauma at being hate-fucked by someone you were flushed for. And toss in a spoonful of John's too fucking stupid to understand quadrants to begin with, and, well...” you leaned back in the chair, put your hands behind your head, “you have the makings of a night of fucked up wonderment.”

Eridan turned away and stood in silence for a moment. Maybe it was foolish of you to jump to conclusions so soon, but you kind of figured you were in the clear here. If anyone would understand the joys of quadrant vacillation, it would be a troll.

Or maybe not.

Eridan spun around in a fashion that could only be described as “angrily”, even though spinning seemed more like a neutral sort of action that couldn't have an emotion attached to it. Speeds, totally, but emotions? Probably not, but “angrily” seemed about right, so yeah, you went with “angrily” on this one.

“You're not wwearin' your shades,” he said, and he was damn near pouting or some similar shit.

And that's when it hit you.

It was going to be one of those fights.

The kind of fight that isn't actually a fight.

The kind where Eridan would be confrontational just because he wanted some fucking confrontation.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. Shit just got interesting.

“Yeah, well, my bro's stuck in a perfect shitstorm of retarded troll feels, so I figured I should look a little less cool so he wouldn't also feel bad about being lame.” You shrugged for effect like a pro. “What can I say? I'm a caring kind of guy.”

Eridan snorted at that. He got like that sometimes when you dual-wielded sarcasm like a fucking boss, or when you were being ultra-ironic. But only when he was being smart enough to see through the charade. So it wasn't all that often, but it was still adorable when he did. And now he was absentmindedly stroking the end of his scarf, and how did he not even realize how fucking cute he was acting while he was trying to act all puffed-up and angry? You folded your arms over your chest as a small grin started to form on your face. He was trying to find a new argument, you could tell.

“Wwell...you nevver take your shades off wwhen I'm upset!” he stammered out with a little smirk, like it was the most bitchinest, air-tightenest argument that had ever been argued.

What an adorable little tool he was. How did he not realize what he was doing? It was ridiculous how he couldn't come right out and fucking ask for what he wanted. He had to be an uppity little bitch and try to start arguments instead. He was so fucking insecure, but that was partly your fault anyway so it's not like you could complain. Well shit, you weren't going to give in to him that easily anyway.

You shrugged. “I'm not wearing my shades right now, aren't I?”

He growled low in his throat as he fidgeted in frustration, or because those pants were uncomfortable. It could go either way.

“That's not the fuckin' point and you knoww it!” he snapped at you. “It's not for MY fuckin' benefit.”

Now he was getting his snarl on, ear fins flaring ever so slightly. He was so psyched up, so into it. And, fuck, so were you. You put on your best game face and stood up slowly, giving every appearance of being annoyed as fuck. Eridan's intense gaze wavered for just a moment before cementing itself back into the irritation he was working so hard on building up. You stalked over to him, acting as ominous as fucking possible. You might not be the most built asshole on the planet, but your height was second to none but Gamzee. The inches of height you had over Eridan put you at the perfect glowering level as you stared down past his glasses into his golden eyes, gray lips pulled back in the nastiest of sneers. He was fucking gorgeous.

“Goddamn, Eridan,” you said in the best deadpan you had (which was, in fact, The Best Deadpan), and crossed your arms over your chest. “If you want some blackrom, you should just fucking ask. You know I give it as good as I get.”

This was the part you loved the most. The royal purple flush that slowly crept across his cheeks. The way his eyebrows quirked up just enough, like he was still so surprised after all this time that you knew, you fucking knew, when he was angling for a night of extra rough hate-sex. Idiot that he was, he probably really was still surprised by it because he was too busy thinking you didn't give enough of a shit about him to know that right now the gills on his scarf-wrapped neck were flaring without even being able to fucking see them, and that his bulge would be starting to unsheath, and that his tight little nook will be starting to drip. You knew all of that shit without even seeing it happen. You knew every fucking thing about him: how he thought, how he acted. You'd studied the fuck out of him like “Shit Eridan Does” was your master thesis. One hundred and thirty pages on how to tell when Eridan's panties were moist with want, aced with flying fucking colors, diploma on the wall. The only thing you didn't know was how to make him realize just how much you fucking care about him.

Probably because you hadn't really told him. That was another thing you didn't really know how to do.

He trembled under your gaze. You never understood this part: he just waited. He never tried to make the first move; he always waited for you. It seemed odd for a guy who put up such a tough guy act all the time. But there he stood, licking his lips as that dumbshit snarl melted away, cheeks bright purple. It was damn near obscene just how reserved he was, like you were in some fucking Japanese anime and he was just waiting for his sempai to show him some attention. It was fucking precious, and it was all you needed to feel your blood rise. You reached out and plucked the glasses from his face, folded them up carefully, and tossed that shit right over your shoulder onto the table. He wordlessly protested, but you grabbed his jaw and forced his face up towards your own. He growled softly, fangs bared. You tightened your grip and he squealed in discomfort.

“I don't want to hear any fucking lip out of you, got it?” you said, threatening with a deadly calm tone of voice.

Some people might have responded with fear. Some people might have cowered in obedience. But not your Eridan. His eyes fucking smoldered with the realization of what was to come.

“Better,” you said then shoved his face away from yours in mock-disgust. “Now take off those ridiculous fucking socks and shuck off those jeans. I am not wasting my precious time trying to peel those things off your scrawny-ass body.

He squinted his eyes up at you as he hissed. You caught his throat in one large hand, giving it a soft squeeze for good measure as you dug your thumb into the underside of his jaw, forcing his head upwards.

“Go on,” you hissed in a nice menacing tone. “Keep resisting. I fucking dare you.”

His neck still caught in your grip, he slowly reached to unzip his pants. The smile you rewarded him with was not one of kindness. You released him, enjoying the half-hidden darkened hand print that persisted on his skin for a moment longer. He still didn't move, though his breathing had certainly become heavier.

“Jesus tap-dancing Christ, pants OFF!” you shouted, enjoying the hell out of the way he jumped at your sudden intensity. “I'm not waiting all fucking night.”

He finally obliged you, though it was ridiculous as hell. The way he hopped around on each foot to pull off those monstrosities he called socks. The way he had to sit down on the floor to take the jeans off because they were so fucking tiny that he couldn't just pull his feet through the legs. You could almost understand Eridan's jealousy of John since apparently the thing that got your rocks off were people who were awkward as sin. And that giant sweater draped so seductively across his thighs, fucking hell, just knowing his bulge was unsheathing under that mess of thrift shop treasure, shit, and the small lines of purple running down his legs because that hot mess of troll in front of you didn't wear any sort of underwear and...

“Get up,” you commanded, because this shit needed to speed up a bit.

He stood slowly, his eyes never leaving your own. He flinched as you reached towards his neck again, but you were only unwinding his scarf enough to see those violet gills of his. The first time you had played with them was out of sheer curiosity. How often did a human get to play with gills and get feedback on it? Correct answer: fucking never, dumbass! When was the last time a fish fucking talked to you? You had assumed that it would be uncomfortable to have one's gills messed with; you had sure as shit done it anyway though. You brushed your thumb past the fleshy purple tissue, Eridan's whimpers reminding you of how you had discovered he actually liked the discomfort of having his gills touched. You softly wedged your thumb inside one of his gill slits, slowly pushing it open and producing an obscene gasp from the seatroll. He immediately bunched his hands into the bottom of his sweater, trying so hard to hide the fully unsheathed bulge that would be squirming just beneath it by now. Of course, he couldn't. Not after you leaned in and ran your tongue along the inside of the gill slit you had pried open. He shuddered and moaned, but the real pleasure came from seeing droplets of diluted purple liquid beginning to puddle on the floor. Your dick was twitching its way to half-hardness, and you couldn't even hide the sly grin that played across your face. You could only act like an dispassionate badass motherfucker for so long when it came to teasing Eridan.

“Look at that mess,” you chided softly. His cheeks burned with that gorgeous cold, purple color as he turned his eyes away from you in embarrassment. “Such a little slut, aren't you?”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and the glare he gave you could have fucking shot daggers if he had just tried a little harder and you fucking loved it. He never gave in, not completely. He wanted to be hurt, and he wanted to be used, but he wanted you to fucking fight for the privilege of doing it. You loved that rebellious fire in him.

You just fucking loved him.

You still had your thumb hooked in his gills, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fucking tongue along those royal purple filaments of his, but he had issued you a challenge, and a Strider never backed down from a challenge. You pressed your thumb up into his gill a little further. A startled hiss erupted from him as his lip pulled back into an angry sneer. You were walking the line between pleasure and pain like a fucking tightrope now. Those yellow eyes were focused on you, looking for any sign of emotion to play off of, as though that was even a remote fucking possibility. Dave Strider kept his shit together during foreplay a lot longer than most. You put on your best coo to get his feathers ruffled.

“When I let you off the hook,” heh, fish terms, “you're going to be a good little guppy and go kneel in front of the couch, aren't you?”

His eyebrows shot skyward, as though it would even be surprising at this point that you would demean him during this shit. That was only the most obvious thing to happen during hate-play. That's like Hate-Play 101. Today's lesson, put that bitch down. Shit gets them all angry. Extra credit for speculating on the promiscuity of their lusus. Protip: I've heard it's legendary.

Despite being taken aback by your sicknasty insult (not really, but he was a sensitive troll), he gave a slight nod and you released your grip on him. He immediately rubbed at his bruised gill, but plodded off to the living room with no argument, that ridiculously long sweater of his obscuring what should have been a great view of that sweet fucking ass. Fucking goddamn hipster clothes. You just wanted to see some ass!

You pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it on the kitchen table before following Eridan into the living room. Look at that, what an obedient little boyfriend kneeling by the couch just like you fucking told him to. You ran a hand through his hair as you walked past him and sat down on the couch. He gave you a short growl, which made you fucking smile because you knew the growl was for messing up his hair and not for making him kneel. Priorities, man. He had them.

You leaned forward and brushed your fingers through the shock of purple hair in a sea of black. Most trolls had wiry hair, but not this motherfucker right here. You don't know what he did to it to make it so soft, but it was like goddamn silk. You brushed you fingers past the base of a horn, and he shivered almost imperceptibly. It made you grin even wider. You just fucking loved when he tried to hide his pleasure. That was as much of a challenge as snarling at you, and you knew just the way to put the ball back in his proverbial court.

“What an obedient little seaprince you are,” you murmured and you fucking patted him on the head like a puppy who had managed not to piss on the rug.

His surprised squeak immediately turned into the angriest fucking snarl as his earfins flared. “So fucking help me--”

But you thrust your thumb right into that open mouth and shut him right the fuck up, your finger pad resting on that bumpy tongue, the tips of his teeth pricking your flesh. The purple flush came back in his cheeks as a stray drop of red blood rolled down his gums. He knew what was coming.

“You gonna suck on that shit or what?” you asked, already knowing the answer but you really needed this shit to move along.

He coiled his tongue around the digit and pulled it farther into his mouth, squeezing it in an even rhythm. He couldn't close his mouth around it (you kind of wanted to keep the thumb attached to your hand), but ran his tongue along the sensitive underside of it before lavishing the top with the same attention, all the while keeping his eyes focused on yours. Those bright yellow eyes, and that bright purple blush, and that purplish gray tongue lolling over your thumb, and the beads of saliva running down his chin...

Your dick twitched at how shameless he was. Breaking down his tough guy persona and leaving him in a drooling, blushing mess was half of the fun of being with Eridan. It made you feel weird inside. Like you didn't want anyone else to see him like this, like you wanted to be the only person who had ever seen him like this, like you wanted to tie him up and keep him in your bedroom and never fucking let him leave, and how the fuck did he not realize that?

His tongue had snaked its way down to your palm (those fucking extra long troll tongues) and he was tracing the lines of your hand with the tip. You only just barely concealed a shudder before pulling your hand from his mouth. He looked almost sad about it as he gave you a questioning look.

“Take my pants off,” you instructed him, and immediately you could see the outline of his thrashing bulge against that ridiculous fucking sweater, and now your cheeks were starting to burn too.

He unbuttoned your pants carefully (claws and all that) and you lifted your hips to help him pull them and your boxers down your legs, almost agonizingly slow because this little bitch knew how to get you going almost as much as you did him. You kicked them off to the side because you didn't need any clothes getting ruined then leaned back into the couch for a moment, dick half erect and still twitching. Eridan stared at it, tongue still hanging partway out of his mouth, his bulge still squirming madly under his sweater. You reached down and gave your cock a good pull, working it to full stiffness. His eyes on your were hungry. You pulled again, slowly, seductively. A soft whine came from low in his throat, and you wondered if he had even noticed it as you smiled and pulled again, rubbing your thumb in a circle around the head, barely even registering the sensation as you remained focused on Eridan. He looked like he could fucking cry from impatience and, fuck, you loved how slutty this fucking kid could get.

You were so wrapped up in watching him that you didn't even notice you were increasing speed on yourself until Eridan placed a hand on your thigh and murmured, “Davve”, and it fucking stopped you in your tracks, partly because hearing your name said with that husky a voice was hot as shit and partly because you weren't supposed to be losing your cool yet. You were breathing much heavier than you remembered. Fuck, you really had gotten into it for a second there, shit! You had to regain some cool.

You lashed out and grabbed both of his horns. Shocked out of his reverie, he tried to pull away as though you didn't have him in a fucking vice grip. You didn't know much about old troll culture, but you were pretty sure that someone having their hands on your head's steering wheels wasn't the greatest position to be in. Eridan's eyes darted from your arms to your face, slight terror in his eyes, though he should fucking know better than be afraid of you. You wouldn't fuck him up or fuck him over. You fucking trusted him to not bite your thumb off; he could show some trust in return, shit. You pulled him closer to you, forced his head back, and nipped along his jaw before sinking your fucking teeth into him just below his right ear. He shivered as he warbled in pleasure, his breath coming in heavy pants. You fucking loved the way that sound penetrated you, shooting warmth and shudders straight to your groin, but it wasn't the effect you were looking for. You slid your left hand down the back of his head to his neck. He glanced at you nervously as you carefully opened up his uppermost gill slit again, and he was right to be nervous. You pulled him a little closer and pressed your tongue into his gill, the fleshy comb-like structures inside scraping you softly as you ran your tongue along the length of it. If you hadn't been holding him, Eridan would have fucking collapsed. He shouted, part pain and part pleasure, before settling into a loud rhythmic whine, clawing at your thighs for support. The floor beneath him was staining purple at an alarming rate, but not alarmingly enough for you. You gently sucked on the filaments in his gill, and he gasped, eyes rolling back behind fluttering eyelids, the sexy little slut.

You pulled away from him slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of the slit, a thin line of saliva trailing after it. You'd done that a hundred times before. It wasn't unpleasant, though it sometimes tasted like soapy water if he had just bathed. Eridan gasped for breath, head still bent sideways at an uncomfortable looking angle, scarf hanging loosely over his shoulders. He didn't seem to mind too much, despite the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. He might look like he was in serious pain, but you knew for a fucking fact he loved when you did that, and reducing him to a blubbering, heavily lubricated mess just happened to also be a perfect way to regain your cool.

“Davve,” he whined at you, voice breathy, eyes pleading. Your dick jumped, and you were so fucking glad the angle you had his head at didn't let him see that.

You jerked his head towards your lap, ignoring his angered protest at you twisted his head forward so suddenly because this was what he wanted, this was what he fucking needed. He needed you to ramp up the pain. You pressed his face into the cushion between your thighs for just a moment (that wasn't something he needed; that was just for shits and giggles) before tilting his head up towards you, your flushed cock directly in his line of sight. You waggled your eyebrows suggestively at him before releasing his horn and settling back on the couch. He stared at you for a moment before nipping at you in a line up your thigh. You shivered at the ticklish feeling of his teeth brushing along your skin, but this wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. You grabbed his left ear fin and tugged; he cried out and growled at you so you fucking backhanded him and pulled on his fin harder. His eyes would have burned a hole of pure hatred through you if your molecular structure wasn't entirely compromised of concentrated cool.

“That's nice and all,” you hissed at him, “but fucking FOCUS.”

He snarled at you again. “You nooksucking piece of--”

You pinched his fin between your forefinger and thumb, and he practically fucking roared in pain.

“Keep that up and you won't fucking get any nooksucking anymore,” you shot back at him before forcing his face towards your dick again. “Now, get your head in the fucking game or I won't pat your ass in the locker room later.”

He glared at you, he sneered, he even fucking hissed a little, but you saw the excitement in his eyes. He never could hide that.

Some people might have thought twice about letting an angry troll that they had previously just smacked around a bit near their naked, throbbing dick, but not Dave Fucking Strider, and especially not when that troll was Eridan. His Eridan. Your fucking Eridan.

His tongue slowly slipped past those sharp teeth, inching towards your groin. Your breath hitched in your throat, just waiting for that sweet moment of impact, but it never came. You growled in frustration, grabbed that purple fucking tuft of hair and gave a good yank. Eridan growled in response, but he hooked that wet, rough tongue under your sack and licked a line from back to front and you fucking shuddered as your breath hissed through your clenched teeth because that little shit knew just how to get you going. He continued licking right up your cock, leaving a line of saliva that felt so fucking chill against your burning hot skin, and then he was pressing the narrow tip of his tongue into your slit and you moaned because that was some quality teasing and he deserved to hear some fucking praise for it way to go, A plus, best in the class, let's hang this shit on the fridge to look at for-fucking-ever because so fucking proud son, so proud.

He coiled his tongue around your head and gave a slight squeeze before running that bumpy ring of muscle down your shaft, hitting every sensitive spot just right because he fucking knew each and every one and the hand you had in his hair gripped a little tighter and he chuckled softly, the fucker, because he thought he was gaining the upper hand like you would actually fucking let that happen. You bit your lip to keep from moaning because he had lost his praising privileges, and you let go of his hair to squeeze the base of a horn instead. His face flushed bright fucking purple as his breath panted out in hot puffs against your thigh, his eyes fluttering and his tongue losing its grip on you.

“D-Davve,” he whimpered, eyes full of alarm, and you already knew he thought he was getting an undeserved reward and maybe you didn't want to hate-play anymore like that was even a remote possibility, the fucking idiot.

You leaned in, fingers still gripping his horn tightly, as you locked your lips with his just for a moment because fucking hell you had had one hell of a rough night and you just needed to feel those thin, rough lips against yours for just one fucking second and that ridged tongue wrapped around yours for just one fucking moment, please, before you bit down on his lower lip and drew enough blood to let him know the fucking score and, look at that, Dave Strider is still winning.

You licked the few drops of purple blood off your lips as he watched in rapt adoration because he fucking loved when you did that, trolls and their bloodplay and all that shit. He whined from low in his throat, his eyes fucking begging, the tip of his bulge peeking out from under that stupid fucking sweater and wriggling all over the floor and you fucking had him now. You bit into what would have been his earlobe if his ears didn't have fins, and he gave a pained wail that you knew for a fucking fact was also a wail of pleasure because you fucking knew this troll inside and out and he wanted to hurt, he wanted you to make it hurt.

“Turn around,” you whispered into his ear before briefly swirling your tongue around, chasing your soft words with his soft whimper.

Your hands fell to your sides, giving him all the room he needed to get comfortable, but he didn't move. He sat on his heels and stared at you, his mouth dropping open like he had something to say. You quirked an eyebrow, completely fucking curious. This was...new. Different. This was something you did not know. He clenched his jaw shut and spun a slow 180, sitting back on his heels with a shiver.

You had to admit, you wanted to know what had gone through his head, but this wasn't the time. No need to kill a sweet fucking mood like this. Eridan's head slumped forward slightly as he waited for a cue from you. You reached forward and swept the ends of his scarf behind him and pulled, making it nice and tight against his neck again. His breath hitched for just a second before he settled right back down, still waiting. You held both scarf ends in one hand and pushed him forward onto his hands with the other, ignoring the squeak of discomfort as the scarf got even tighter around his throat. He'd be fine, and this would be fucking fun.

You pushed the sweater up over his hips, finally getting a look at that sweet ass. So perfectly round and plush, but that wasn't the target. There was too much room in there. Nooks were much smaller, tapered just like bulges. Dicks didn't actually fit in them very well, which made it ideal for hate-play. You ran a finger along the edge of his nook and he whimpered with need as his bulge thrashed against his thigh. You crooked your finger inside just a bit, enjoying the fuck out of the gasp that shook his whole body. Fucking hell was this kid ready for you. Your finger came away purple and you bit your lip as you ran that sweet natural lube along the front of your dick. Eridan was fucking trembling with anticipation and it was literally the best thing you had seen all fucking day, and man did you ever need to see something this good after all the bad you had seen. You scooted yourself to the edge of the couch and rubbed the length of your dick along his nook, loving the hell out of the husky, expectant moan that dripped from those sweet fucking lips of his.

You pressed the tip of your dick into his nook and he shuddered sweet like fucking candy as you savored the overwhelming heat inside of him before grasping an end of scarf in each hand and yanking it tight as you thrust into him. He cried out and his arms gave out under him, panting and groaning into the floor, purple fluid leaking from around your cock squeezed up in him so tight it almost hurt in the best fucking way imaginable. You wrapped the ends of his scarf around your hands once and pulled him upwards, taut knitted fabric digging into his flesh.

“Don't give out on me now seahorsey,” you taunted, shit-eating grin plastered all up on your face. “I've got a lot more riding to do tonight.

You loosened up on the scarf just enough for him to pull away from you a bit, you cock sliding out of him easily as the slick liquid surrounding it and the ultra-tight nook enveloping it tried to give Eridan's body a reprieve, but fuck that noise, you pulled on the scarf-reins again and forced his body back against yours, thrusting as much of your cock as you could fit up into him, and he choked out a sobbing wail his insides were stretched much farther than they were ever fucking intended to and it honestly kind of hurt to be in such a tight space but you were Dave Fucking Strider and you could take pain as much as you could fucking give it and you gave it fucking good.

Eridan shuddered as he pulled away from you again, convulsed and cried out as you pulled him back. His entire fucking body shook, his bulge was flipping its shit and dripping an obscenely large puddle of purple liquid below him. You thrust yourself against him again, rhythm agonizingly slow just how you fucking wanted it, and Eridan's arms finally gave out, falling to his elbows and burying his face in the sleeves of his sweater.

“Talk to me, man,” you said calmly, kindly even. This wasn't something you went plowing into with reckless fucking abandon. This was the kind of heavy shit you had to keep tabs on in case you took it too far and did some serious fucking damage.

He sobbed as he lifted his head off of his arms and angled the ass end of him upwards practically wagging his non-existent fucking tail at you as he cried “fucking MOVVE, dammit”, and yeah you heard the tears in his voice, and yeah you knew they were obviously streaming down his face, and yeah you knew he was in a world of fucking pain but he told you to move and you fucking moved, thrusting at a much faster speed not quite as deep but still so fucking good as he resumed being a writhing mess of stimulated nerve-endings beneath you mewling “Davve, Davve” as you fucking lost it, gripping an ass cheek in each hand, blinding white heat pulsing through you as you came. You dropped the scarf immediately, pulling Eridan onto your lap, turning him to face you because this is how it needed to be.

You held him close to you, hand held lovingly against the small of his back as you worked his bulge with the other. Purple-tinted tears flowed down his cheeks as he hiccuped shallow breaths, and you stared into those watery eyes as you ran your hand along his wriggling bulge. He shuddered and pressed his lips against yours, slipping that deliciously bumpy tongue into your mouth and running it along yours as he moaned into you, his bulge wrapping around your hand. You leaned backwards to steady his body against yours as you reached your other hand down towards his bruised nook, touching it gently, reverently, as you stroked him inside and out in unison until he cried into your mouth as royal purple genetic fluid soaked your hands and the couch.

He fell against you, breath still coming ragged from his tears. Your hands were disgusting, but he was going to be running for the shower soon anyway, so you ran a hand through his hair, pressed it to his cheek, trying your best to soothe him, shooshing him as best you could because humans just weren't as good at that shit for whatever reason.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes as he murmured “thank you” and gave you a chaste kiss. And fucking hell he was just the hottest mess of a troll you had ever seen and you know know what the fuck came over you but—

“Goddamnit, Eridan,” you panted, pressing your forehead to his. “I fucking love you so much.”

The most awkward pause in the world was followed by him pulling away, his face lined with what looked like fear, fucking WHY, and he was off your lap an instant later and gathering his shit up as he shot you a worried look and ran out the front door, forgetting to even put his fucking pants back on and Jesus CHRIST what the hell had you done? You put your head in your hands and let out a shuddering sigh.

This was the shittiest day ever.

Chapter Text

You woke up the next day at around noon because you had stayed up until the crack of ass feeling like the largest and most useless tool in the shed, and you were a fucking zombified wreck for it. Your head fucking killed from the mix of forcing yourself to not cry and knocking your skull against the wall you had fallen into just before dawn. It hadn't been the most constructive way to solve your problems, but it had certainly helped you fall asleep. You blinked in a completely stupefied manner as you surveyed your surroundings. You were on a bed. There were blankets and pillows and shit. Also, you had boxers on. And you were clean, despite your hair looking like an alpaca in a wind tunnel. Also, you had no idea how the fuck any of those things were happening because you had passed out on the couch with one arm and one leg dangling on the floor and your whole body laying in a puddle of Eridan orgasm shortly after the wall-headbutting and not crying thing. You groaned, partly because your head felt like balls and partly because your head had just thought of Eridan. You pushed yourself upright, willing your tired muscles to work properly, but you were too damn tired to be willful so you just sat there and waited for your body to start responding to your consciousness. It took a little while, but eventually you were stumbling over your own feet off to the bathroom to take a leak before heading downstairs.

The moment you hit the living room you knew something was up because you smelled coffee, and while coffee was the nectar of the fucking gods themselves, it did not brew itself. Also, you didn't think anyone had alchemized coffee yet, so how was this smell happening? And a sizzling sound and, fucking shit fuck shitty fuckin goddamn shitballs, Eridan was in your kitchen making breakfast, cape and apron and all. You stopped dead in your tracks, but you had already bumped into every piece of furniture you owned on your slow trudge through the place, so he already knew you were behind him. He turned and gave you a smirk, probably because you looked like total ass. You wanted to strike a sexy pose like your appearance was totally on purpose but for once you couldn't summon up enough ironic cool to overshadow how completely fucking confused you were.

“Who...?” you started as you pointed to what you assumed was a coffee machine.

“Rose perfected the alchemization this mornin',” he responded matter-of-factly and turned back to the eggs he was cooking. You guys didn't have chickens, but you did have bird-like critters that dropped eggs out their butts, so why the fuck not?

Something sparked in your brain and you pointed to the stairs as you mumbled out “did you?”, and Eridan turned to see you flailing about with trying to get words to work and gave you this amused grin that you did not fucking enjoy.

“Yeah, I cleaned you up and put you to bed,” he said, still acting like it was the most normal fucking thing in the world. “Gotta problem wwith that?”

You squinted at him because there was something really fucked up going on here and somehow you were the only person seeing it like you were a goddamn psychic detective, but like a legit one and no one believed you anyway and, fucking shit, you couldn't do irony this early. You dragged yourself over to the coffee maker and drank that shit right out of the carafe. You took your coffee black anyway. Eridan cringed like you were some dirty fucking peasant tracking mud on his precious marble palace before turning off the stove and moving the egg-pan to a cold burner, and thank creation for placebo effects because your brain felt functional now.

“Eridan,” you said, putting the carafe down because you wanted some serious focus going on right now, “Why are you here?”

And he gave you a look of complete confusion.

This fucker was confused? How the fuck was he confused?! YOU were the one who was fucking confused right now!

“I'm makin' breakfast,” he said with a fucking eye roll like you were just too retarded to know what it meant when there were eggs sizzling in a pan and coffee making your whole fucking life smell like heaven. “Wwhat does it look like?”

And you brain just broke because how were you the only one who thought it was weird that he was here doing this normal relationship shit after he had run the fuck out on you bare-assed last night?!

“You fucking ran,” you said slowly, clearly, like you were teaching him fifth grade math and he needed extra attention because he was just a bit slower than the rest of the kids. “Last night, I said....I said some intimate shit and you ran.”

Now he registered some recognition. At least now you knew you weren't crazy.

“So I'm going to ask again,” you continued. “Why the fuck are you here?”

His earfins twitched, he was pensive as fuck, and you had no idea what the hell any of it meant.

“C'mon, Davve,” he said laughing, but seriously that laugh was hollow as fuck, the shitty fucking liar. “I can be at my boyfriend's house if I wwanna.”

You stared at him. You just fucking stared. He was so obviously dodging something but fuck if you knew what it was, and you just decided to give up.

“Okay, know what? Fuck it,” you said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You want to pretend like shit's all cool between us? Like something totally fucking weird didn't happen last night? Fine. I can do that. Less of a headache anyway.”

You stalked back to the living room and slumped down onto the couch, not even thinking about the mess you had left the night before except, oh would you fucking look at that, your boyfriend, who was totally not being weird right now, had cleaned that shit up too. You groaned because your life was so fucking messed up right now.That's when you remembered all of the shit that had gone down with John the day before, and you grabbed your laptop from the side table and reminded him to eat some of the soup you made for him because that kid was going to fucking forget. Not that he was even online to listen, but he would be eventually. Or maybe he'd be up right that second because he sent you a message saying he'd eat some, and you felt like a good person on that front at least, so you leaned back into the couch with a sigh and stared off into the kitchen at the back of Eridan's head as he took plates out of a cabinet.

“I don't want food,” you hollered at him, because your existence was too fucked up right now to figure out how to digest things, you were fucking sure of it.

“Wwell too-fuckin'-bad, cause you're gettin' it anywway,” he sneered as he brought you a plate. Not that he was actually angry. Or maybe he was. You apparently didn't know shit about him anymore.

Pesterchum chimed at you, and there was Egbert thanking you for being so awesome yesterday, and you groaned as you told him you didn't need thanks, to get better, and yes you would totally teach him to cook sometime, and then shut the fucking lid because too many fucking distractions right now.

Eridan was still standing there with two plates of eggs in his hands and giving you this impatient-as-fuck look, and you could tell you were reaching a breaking point so you just grabbed one of the plates and stuffed all the egg into your mouth at once. He scoffed and sat down to eat all proper-like or some shit while you chewed on a mouthful of breakfast, but you just needed to get this particular moment out of the way already so you could get to the next one, and fuck choking risks.

“Eridan,” you began, but he was already walking back towards the kitchen with your empty plates, and now you had to fucking chase after him.

“I havve to go,” he said suddenly, spinning to face you, wrapping his scarf around his neck with a flourish that was painfully ridiculous to everyone except him. “Kanaya needs to talk to me.”

Your mouth sagged open for a moment before you collected yourself and clenched your jaw. “Yeah, sure. You going to be back later?”

His eyes looked pained for just a second, what the hell was going on?, before he gave a small grin. “Yeah, I'll be here.”

And then he gave you a kiss on the cheek, and you were so fucking lost, but the sudden shouting in the streets ripped you right back to reality as you said “oh FUCK” and ran to the living room for the clothes you had discarded the night before shouting “I will fucking murder him if I have to!” as you scrambled to pull on your pants. Eridan took one look out the kitchen window, gave a whistle, then headed out the door as you shouted “hold on a second” after him, tripping over your pant legs, but he was already gone, and wasn't this day already shaping up to be just as fucking awesome as yesterday had been?

By the time you had your shoes and shades on there had been a loud crash, and you got out the door just in time to see Karkat walking away from a laptop explosion or some shit. Fucking hell, what had he done this time? A couple other trolls who had heard the commotion were already going to investigate, but you shooed them away from John's door as you grabbed the spare key from under a rather large stone and unlocked the door. You had just called “John?” when you heard a window slam open and a sudden rush of wind blew through the house and you knew he was already gone. There you were, alone in John's empty house. He had just flown off after shouting in the streets with Karkat over who the fuck even knew what, and you had no idea where he was going. You could only guess that he was feeling pretty fucked up. Your own relationship was going to shit, and you had honestly been hoping for some nice, cathartic Karkat-punching to make it all better. Instead you settled for slumping onto John's couch in case he came right back home (not fucking likely) and groaned loudly as you pounded a fist against your skull because Strider-punching was an acceptable substitute at this point.

You pulled out your old iPhone and shot Sollux a message over Pesterchum to alchemize John a new laptop, no questions asked. Not that he would need to ask. Everyone would know about what went down outside eventually. You hoped. You just really wanted to find out what the hell had happened.

You must have dozed off waiting for John because when you became aware of your surroundings again it was already evening, and John had not yet returned. Figuring you had done more than enough that was required of a best bro, you headed out the door, locked the place up, put the key back, and headed on home. Another night of walking home from Egbert's with a ton of shit weighing on your mind. Another night of wishing you had someone to talk to about all of it, but after everything that had gone down with Eridan over the past 24 hours, opening up to him seemed like an even worse idea now, if he had even gone back to your place after he was done with...whatever he was doing that he wasn't telling you about because apparently he just didn't want to fucking tell you anything about what was going on with himself. Why the hell had your life gotten so complicated anyway?

You slammed your kitchen door shut, eliciting a massive fucking jump out of Eridan, who was sitting cozy on the comfy chair in the living room. He glared at you for a moment before seeing the I'm-not-taking-any-shit-from-anyone expression you had going and settled his ass back down. You kicked your shoes off and tossed your shades on the counter, not even giving a shit when they landed in the sink instead because you were fed the fuck up with shitty days and shitty nights and you were about to take this shitstorm that was your life by the fucking horns and beat that shit into submission because no fucking way was this continuing any longer.

You stomped over to Eridan, staring him straight in the eyes as he cowered just a little, tough guy persona flying out the window almost as fast as John had.

“Wwhy are your shades off?” he asked, and yeah he sounded nervous, and no you didn't really give a fuck.

“Because I'm fucking upset, that's why,” you snapped, and he jumped deeper into the chair cushions.

You let out a groan as you straddled his lap and buried your face in his neck.

“Make it better,” you mumbled into his shirt.

He put his arms around you slowly, patted your back like you were a fucking child, and said, “I can't.”

Your head snapped back up and you glared at him because why was it so hard for him to do what you needed him to when you could always do what he needed you to? “Why the hell not?”

He swallowed, his eyes darting between your own. “Because...I'm leavvin'.”

You grumbled as you climbed off his lap. “You don't have to go running off again, you know? You can fucking stay here. I really don't care if you fucking stay here again. I'm not that pissed about what happened, okay?”

And he just stared at you.

And there were tears in his eyes.

Oh fuck, no.

“No, uh,” he stuttered. “I'm...I'm leavvin' you.”

There were a lot of things Dave Strider could deal with. Constant ambushes from a thirty year-old starting at a young age. Having to dodge shurikens just to get a drink in the morning. Setting up sequences of Daves to accomplish goals and immediately die just to keep all of fucking time intact. But this was some shit that could not be dealt with.

“What did you say?” you hissed almost menacingly because holy shit you'd been bottling up emotions for like EVER and this was about to turn into a nasty volcanic eruption of the ugliest fucking feels you'd ever experienced, starting with this one, and no one was going to fucking survive.

Eridan stood and looked straight into your eyes like the ballsiest motherfucker who had ever walked Alternia. “I'm leavvin' you.”

And you weren't really sure why, but the right hook that sent him sprawling to the floor seemed like the most appropriate response.

Chapter Text

It only took Eridan a couple minutes to come back to consciousness, and he came back with a fucking bang, clawing and snarling and shit. Or he would have been doing those things if you hadn't been sitting on his chest with his arms pinned beneath your legs. There was certainly a lot of snarling action though, and he even spat at you for effect.

“Hey,” you said, fully calmed because reflexively cold-cocking your boyfriend-possibly had sort of instan-fucking-taneously set your head straight.

“Get the FUCK OFF'A ME, you nooksniffin' piece of SHIT,” he bellowed, trying to wiggle out from underneath you, but that shit just was not happening.

“Nah, I'm good here,” you replied, completely deadpan. “Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

He roared in frustration as he smacked the back of his head against the living room floor a few times. “Wwhat the FUCK do you wwant from me?”

You sighed as you hefted a hand towel filled with ice out of your lap and held it to his cheek. “I want to talk, and I want you to not try to murder me while we talk, so here we are.”

He bared his teeth as the towel pressed against his bruised cheek, but he stopped struggling at least. “I really don't wwanna fuckin' talk to you.”

“Well that's too fucking bad because not-talking isn't an option.”

He growled softly for just a moment before clenching his jaw in completely warranted indignation. You realized this wasn't the best way to have a heart-to-heart, but he was taking it like a champ and you fucking appreciated that.

“I'll start,” you said. “I'm sorry I hit you. Seriously, it's not something I ever wanted to do. I just had a lot going on and...just...okay, there's really no excuse, but I am feeling guilty as fuck up here, so maybe try to cut me some slack?”

You were lucky you were so damn attractive because Eridan probably wouldn't have sighed and reluctantly nodded his head in agreement otherwise. “Wwhaddya wwanna talk about first?”

That was the problem; you honestly didn't fucking know. You hadn't had enough time between getting ice for his cheek and sitting on his chest to figure out which thing needed answering first. Which things were connected to which other things? Was the leaving because of what had happened after the hate-play, or was what had happened then because of the leaving? There was too much shit up in your brain, man. Too many fucking problems to deal with. You sighed and rested you chin on the back of your hand.

“Why do you want to leave me?” you said as you practiced being the absolute number one super pro at holding back tears.

Eridan was not super pro, however, so tears welled all the fuck up in his eyes. “It's not just you. I'm leavvin' the towwn.”

“But why?”

He sighed, blinking back tears that instead tossed him a “fuck you” before leaking down the sides of his face. “I'm goin' to the sea.”

“Oh...oh GOD, you're going to live there?!” you shouted, panicking a little more than you should have been.

“No! I'm gonna explore it,” he said with a slight chuckle, fucking dick. “See, on Alternia Fef had this crazy fuckin' lusus that could kill evveryone just by makin' sounds. I knoww wwe don't exactly havve the same fuckin' beasts here, but I gotta make sure wwe don't have another horrorterror dowwn there.”

That was...not what you were expecting. That was like...deep and noble and shit. You quirked an eyebrow at him and he sighed as he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I get it,” he scoffed. “I'm the asshole. Wwhat do I care about evveryone dyin'? Did I fuckin' mention I wwould be dyin' too? Does that make it more believvable for you?”

You shook your head. Nevermind, he was still the same old retarded Eridan. “Yeah, but why do you have to leave me specifically?”

He exhaled shakily and you cursed inwardly because shit did not look good all of a sudden. “Figured it wwould be easier that wway.”

What would be easier?” you shouted. “Fucking explain it to me, Ampora, because I really don't fucking get what's going on with you.”

And he seriously looked shocked by that, like it was some big secret that you didn't know what was going on in that empty fucking head of his when he never told you what was going on in that empty fucking head of his.

“You're gonna leavve me anywway,” he muttered, and he was fucking sincere about it, like that made fucking sense somehow.

“Why the fuck would I do that?!” you said, exasperated to the point where you couldn't help that your voice increased in pitch.

“Because,” he mumbled, “this isn't wwhat you wwant. You wwere nevver serious about us. I'm just a good fuck to you, aren't I?”

And there it was. You had prided yourself on knowing everything about him, but had missed the single most obvious fucking fact: he had opened up to you after being rejected by damn near every single one of his friends, and you had fucking used him too. It didn't matter you had changed your mind and fell for him; the damage had already been done. And the fact that he was an amazing fuck was completely beside the fucking point.

“Goddamnit, Eridan,” you said, completely exasperated, as you pulled the now-damp towel away from his cheek, replacing it with you hand. “You are fucking retarded. I just told you last night that I love you. How did that not pierce through that thick fucking skull of yours?”

He rolled his eyes again as he snorted. “Yeah, you said you lovve me...immediately after pailin' me. Howw vvery ironic of you.”

Your eyes shot wide fucking open. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

The look of complete confusion on his face was utter bullshit as he said, “No?”

You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. “You listen and you fucking listen good. I am never ironic when I tell you I love you, you sexy fucking idiot.”

And that adorable little fucker, he actually cried as he smiled. And as you pressed your lips to his, you just hoped like mad that things would be good now, that you wouldn't have to hide how you felt, and he wouldn't act like you didn't give a shit about him because all of that shit was the maximum amount of wrong.

“Can you get off me noww?” he asked as he sniffled.

“Fuck no,” you responded. “Not if you're leaving.”

“I can leavve wwhenevver I wwant!” he shouted, but not angrily. “I just thought it should be soon.”

“Oh. Well then, yeah, I can get off you.”

But you didn't fucking move. You sat there, hands on his shoulders, staring into his tear-rimmed eyes, that slight flush across his face, the fading grin on his lips, and you slid backwards to his waist before leaning over him.

“Actually, can I not get off of you?” you asked as you rolled your hips against his.

“That wworks for me,” he said as his newly freed hands grabbed the back of your head and pulled your lips to his, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth to wrap around your own. You moaned into the kiss as your fingers fumbled at the button of his ridiculous striped pants, practically tearing the fucking zipper off entirely in your eagerness to slide his pants down those slender thighs, running your hands over them slowly as he shivered and hummed his approval into your mouth.

You coaxed his tongue further into your mouth with your own before sucking on it as hard as you possibly fucking could, Eridan's lips disengaging your own entirely so he could pant for breath for a moment before burrowing his tongue so far down your throat that he was lavishing your tonsils with attention before you could even register that you should be choking and sputtering on the damn thing. His ran his hands up your hips, lifting your shirt as he went, before stopping to pinch your nipples to stiffness. The gasp it drew out of you was so fucking unexpected you barely even had time to pull away from his lips, and that's when it fucking hit you.

Eridan was in charge.

And, holy shit, it was the hottest fucking thing that had gone through your mind in a long time. You wished you had fucking known that telling him how you felt would give him this kind of confidence. You wished you had known that there was more to know about Eridan than you had expected, because this was new and it was hot and you had so much more to fucking learn and challenge fucking accepted.

Eridan's bulge was starting to unsheath and drip tiny droplets of purple onto his stomach, but not quickly enough for you. You ran your hand along his bony sheath, massaging it softly with your fingertips, and he fucking whined for more attention as he ran his tongue along your newly bruised lips. Your dick fucking jumped at the sight. This aggressive new Eridan was fucking gorgeous, blushing bright purple as he nipped at the corner of your mouth, lovingly chasing each prick of pain with his tongue. You rubbed the palm of your hand into his sheath as you twined his emerging bulge around your fingers, his soft keening and rough fingers against your nipples making the pressure in your groin damn near unbearable. The violet puddle between Eridan's thighs let you knew he was feeling the same way, even as his bulge fully unsheathed and wound its way around your hand and forearm and squeezed. You ripped the scarf away from his neck before burying your face against his gray skin, softly nibbling on his gill slits. He moaned as he pressed his hips up against you and, god fucking help you, you moaned into his neck in response.

“Fucking....shit, oh fuck, Eridan,” you panted against his skin as you ran your tongue along his jaw. “Fucking unbutton me already.”

He didn't wait a fucking second to comply, his hands immediately flying to your jeans and unbuttoning them with much less difficulty than you had displayed earlier. You were half a second away from being really fucking jealous of his level of cool, but then you remembered it was pretty much his job to take your pants off on a daily basis so of course he could perform under pressure. Your cock strained against your briefs, so fucking close to the contact it desperately needed. Eridan pressed the pad of his thumb into the base of it, running a line of the best fucking pressure you had ever felt right up to the tip before hooking his thumb over the fabric and pulling it down, claw gently scraping its way along your length, and you couldn't fucking help it, your cool was lost as you whined with need into Eridan's neck. The bastard fucking chuckled darkly at the little bitch he had turned you into as you briefly considered choking him half to death, but his bulge was wrapped around your dick and squeezing upwards in a slick spiral and your brain fucking died. The hamster had checked out, the wheel had been taken off its hinges, the lights were off, and there was no mental faculties left to block the wailing moan erupting from your mouth like Kraka-fucking-toa that you failed to muffle in the crook of Eridan's neck. You felt his tongue slick up the shell of your ear and you just knew the hot jackass of a troll beneath you was enjoying the shit out of you being at his mercy.

Your brain had a fleeting moment of “fuck that noise” as you grasped a horn in each hand and massaged the fuck out of the skin around them. Eridan's hips bucked up into yours instinctively, his hands scratching up your spine as he panted out a deliciously lusty whine into your ear and your eyelids fluttered shut as his overwhelming need for you crashed into your overwhelming need for him, and you wondered just how the fuck you never realized that sex was going to be that much better if you just let yourselves fucking feel for each other.

The tip of his bulge swirled over the head of your cock before pressing into your slit just enough to give you this fucking blissful rush of pressure as the rest of his bulge massaged up your length, and you were about to moan again but opted to dig your teeth into Eridan's shoulder, the keening wail that burst from his lips and the claws digging into your hips pushing you right over the fucking edge. You pulled your head away from his shoulder as you moaned “Eridan”, and the tip of his bulge was out of you in an instant as beads of white peppered his stomach.

The flush on his face was fucking obscene and he whimpered “Davve” as he ran his hands up your hips and chest. You grinned and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Don't you fucking worry, babe,” you whispered as you ran your hands along his horns. “I got you covered.”

Leaving one hand on a horn, you reached the other down to wrap around his bulge, your softening dick thankfully not receiving any more abuse. The slick, wriggling thing was coiled around your wrist instantly, pulsing against your skin, so very close to bursting. You gently ran your hand down towards his nook, making sure not to break contact with his bulge as you ran you fingers against the soaking wet edges of his hole. He shuddered as his eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering shut at your touch because Dave Strider was back in charge and shit was about to get fucking hot. You massaged at his horn as you crooked a couple of fingers up into his nook a couple of inches and he was fucking gone, screaming your name as you were both coated in royal purple genetic material, which matched the tears trickling from his eyes almost perfectly.

He panted as he came down off his orgasm, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks as he stared into your eyes with an intensity that was almost painful. His tears started coming heavier.

“Do you really lovve me?” he whimpered, his body starting to shake from his tears, from his emotions, from the killer orgasm he had just received; you didn't really know which, just pure speculation at this point.

Your hand was messy, but he didn't seem to mind as you smeared purple fluid across his gray cheek.

“I really fucking do,” you said with a genuinely happy smile because, holy shit, this was the best day ever, and you pulled him into a tender kiss to make sure he knew it too.

Chapter Text

You awoke the next day before noon, miracle though it was, and you felt really fucking good despite being bleary-eyed as fuck. You lifted your head for a cursory view of your surroundings, and fucking look at that, you were in a bed with sheets and pillows and a blanket again, but no clothes this time. Apparently your boyfriend was a bedtime ninja or some shit, because you could have sworn you had passed out on the couch cuddling him and assuring him that you did in fact love the hell out of him and would wait for him to return from his expedition, as though messing around with another guy had ever even crossed your mind, the fucking dumbass. You kind of wished you hadn't woken up so late just so you could have woken up next to him, but waking up before Eridan pretty much seemed physically impossible.

Your iPhone was blinking at you from your nightstand, and you discovered a thank you message from Egbert on it. The kid wasn't intelligent enough to sustain a functional relationship, but he had figured out you'd told Sollux to get him a new laptop. You shot him a quick “no problem” before asking how he was doing, and you waited for like five fucking minutes but never got an answer even though he was clearly still online. The dumb shit was probably off in his own head already. You put the phone back down and tossed a mental “fuck you” to your wardrobe before plodding down stairs in the buff, doing your best to smooth down your hair and failing miserably, but you knew you still looked hot so whatever.

The heavenly scent of coffee flooded your nostrils for the second day in a row, the sound of food sizzling away on the stove made your mouth water. Some kind of pork-type thing, you could tell. The greatest thing this new universe had done so far was give you a replacement for bacon.

Eridan was standing at the stove in an atrocious extra long lilac t-shirt with his apron showing off all the curves and angles of his body you loved so fucking much. And that's when you realized it.

He wasn't wearing pants.

Holy shit, you had gone damn near a year of being with this asshole and he was finally walking around your house sans-pants. The amount of happiness you were experiencing should have been fucking illegal. You wanted to sneak up behind him and give that ass a squeeze, but you had stumbled into every piece of furniture you owned on your way through the place, and he turned to greet you with a grin. Or he would have greeted you with a grin if you hadn't caught him off guard with your naked hotness, and instead he flushed all the way to his earfins as his pupils dilated just a little, and the way he had to clear his throat was just fucking adorable, honestly.

“Mornin',” he said before quickly returning to his cooking.

A pantsless, blushing Eridan was in your kitchen.

Well, that woke your dick up.

You sidled up to him all sensual-like and slid your arms around him, except you were half asleep so you actually just trudged up behind him and threw your arms around his waist like a child grabbing a favorite stuffed animal. You buried your face in his hair before hooking your chin over his shoulder, enjoying the purple flush in your peripheral vision.

“Don't leave meee,” you whined, squeezing him tighter. “I can't live without you.”

He rested his hands on the sides of the stove as he shook his head. “Are you bein' ironic wwith me?”

“No,” you shot back with an extremely exaggerated pout. “I'm being dramatic. It's different.”

He sighed, but you could see the way his cheek tweaked upwards in a grin. “Do you really need me to stay?”

You scoffed. “Hell no. I'd like you to stay, but I'm not about to stop you from doing some shit you think is important. I'll fucking live.”

He looked up over his shoulder at you, his eyes just fucking shining with happiness like you had never seen before as he bared damn near every fang he had in the largest smile you had ever seen. You officially had a new overriding rule for everything else in your brain: Eridan's smile outweighed all.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, the only thing you could really reach, before nuzzling your face into his shoulder. He focused his attention back onto your breakfast, which was taking ridiculously long to cook, apparently.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked his shoulder, which wasn't feeling very talkative, but it passed your muffled message onto Eridan's ear, so no problem.

“Uh, I dunno,” he said, his voice dragged down by heavy thinking. “How long is a month again?”

You smiled. The trolls were still adjusting to the time on this new planet. It wasn't an issue for the humans. The moment you had all shown up on this place, you could just feel that it ran on the same time as Earth had. Twelve months, 365 days, 24 hours to a day. Having to learn a new system of time was a slow process for the trolls, except for Aradia. She had been the most thrown off by it at first because of her time aspect, but had also adjusted to it the fastest.

“A month is 30 days,” you said as you put your chin on his shoulder again, holding him flush against your body. “Thirty whole terrible days without a handsome seatroll to keep me company at night and protect me from the prowling assholes that live around here and somehow magically put me to bed without waking me up, which will never make sense—”

“You sleep like a sunken ship! I couldn't wwake you up if I fuckin' tried!”

“—and you won't be here to cook me breakfast,” you trailed off into the most dramatically pathetic whine you could manage. “Whatever will I do without my sweet prince?”

“I am so fuckin' sorry I evven told you I wwas leavvin',” he said, deadpan like a fucking pro, learning from the best and all. “I shoulda just fuckin' left and savved me the headache.”

“Oh baby, don't be like that,” you whimpered as you pressed your hips against him, the fabric of his t-shirt and the warmth of his body sending pleasant sensations through your groin. “You know I didn't mean it, baby. I just need you so bad sometimes, baby, you know that.”

The frustrated groan that vibrated through him made you grin wildly. “Are you done being retarded yet?”

“Fuck, Eridan,” you said, voice full of swagger. “You know I can be retarded all day if I have to.”

He sighed because he knew it was true, and he turned off the stove. “Wwhaddya wwant?”

You had honestly kind of wanted the food, but since he had sort of taken that off the table...

“Eridaaaaan,” you whined into his ear, breathing somewhat more heavily than you really needed to. “You're not wearing paaaaaants.”

He flushed again, all the way to his fins, and it was fucking beautiful, and you just grinned into his shoulder because an Eridan that knew you wanted him for more than just sex was apparently an Eridan that got his blood pumping five times as easily, and it was fun.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And?”

You scoffed again. “I'm not stupid, Ampora. You might be a retarded hipster, but even you wouldn't go walking around without pants on unless you wanted someone to notice you weren't wearing any.”

And he fucking stiffened, like he had been so damn clever that you would never see through it. Your grin was downright sinister now as you unwound your arms from his waist and pulled at the bow of his apron because it really was a nice apron and you preferred that it didn't get stained. He whimpered as the ties fell against his legs, and you felt almost predatory as you ran your hands over those skinny little hips of his, all the way down to give his thighs a firm squeeze while kissing you way from his shoulder to his ear. He shuddered as your lips brushed past his fin, his hands bunched up in the hem of his shirt in a way that signified only one thing.

You ran your tongue along the back of his fin, fucking savoring the whine that hissed from his lips. “You dripping for me yet, babe?”

The whimper you got in response was slightly strangled. “D-d'ya really havve to ask?”

And that was all the invitation you needed to rip the apron over his head and spin him around, tilting his head back so you could lock his lips in a kiss as you pressed your body flush against his. You slid your tongue into his mouth at the exact moment he slid his into yours, and you smiled inwardly at your new outgoing boyfriend. His hands were draped around your shoulders a moment later as he massaged the back of your neck, and you moaned softly into his mouth because your life had been crushing you under a boulder of tension lately, and your muscles relaxing felt just as good as Eridan's tongue wrapping around your own at this point. You cupped your hands around his earfins and gently rubbed your thumb and forefinger against them, his knees buckling slightly as he blushed and moaned and ran his tongue along the roof of your mouth, fucking hell, you wished you had told him how you felt sooner.

You ran your tongue over his fangs, scratching it up just enough to get a drop of blood or two into play, and Eridan growled in approval as he gripped the back of your neck and plunged his tongue deeper into your mouth, squeezing it around your own in a steady rhythm before pulling your tongue farther into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hands were cupping his plush-as-hell ass cheeks a second later, giving them a good fucking squeeze as Eridan moaned against your lips, and then his hand was around your half-hard dick, fucking goddamn shit, and he rubbed his thumb over the head before running those sweet claws gently over your length, and you really, really, fucking loved outgoing Eridan. You practically wanted to fucking marry outgoing Eridan because you fucking loved him so damn much. You loved him more now than you had two fucking days ago when you told him you loved him, and if he kept palming your dick the way he was, you were going to love him even more by noon.

You lifted Eridan up onto the counter next to the stove, shoving the pan of ignored food out of the way and not giving a shit about the mess it made because you needed some fucking room and you'd be cleaning the kitchen in about half an hour anyway. He squeaked in surprise for an instant as he steadied himself with a hand on your shoulder, his bulge lashing out from beneath a spreading stain of deep purple on his soft lilac shirt. It was obscene. It was fucking beautiful.

“Davve, wwhat the hell?” he shouted, one hand digging into your shoulder as the other tried to hide his bulge under his shirt, and goddamn did you fucking love that overpowering sense of modesty he got in the heat of the moment.

“What's the matter, babe?” you asked with the biggest shit-eating grin you could muster as you ran your fingers up his slender hips to tease at his leg scars. “Aren't you having fun?” He whimpered as his blush deepened. “Aren't you feeling good?”

Eridan's whole body shivered as his back arched instinctively to your touch, and the moan that escaped those gorgeous bruised lips was all the right kinds of dirty. “B-but..ahh...on the c-counter?”

He had a point. It was pretty fucking disgusting what you were planning on doing to him on the counter. There were already rivulets of purple liquid running down the cabinet door. Not that you minded. Shit, a show like that was half the fucking fun. But the real fun was in the fact that even this new, outgoing Eridan was still the nervous, self-conscious, and yet fully shameless troll you had fallen for in the first place. The grin that spread slowly across your face was so devious that his fins flared either in arousal or fear, and either one worked for you.

“We can go upstairs if you want to,” you said in your best soothing-yet-teasing-as-fuck tone as you ran a finger slowly along his nook, his full-body shudder and shaky gasp downright naughty.

“If you can wait long enough for me to pick you up in my big...strong...arms,” you continued as you pressed a finger up into him just deep enough to make his head slump back and his eyes flutter shut.

“And carry you all the way upstairs,” you said as you ran your hand slowly along the length of his bulge, which was oddly still given the current circumstances. Eridan was really hanging onto your every word after all.

Perfect.

“Then lay you down on my nice...big...bed,” you whispered into his ear, breath as hot and heavy as you could make it, which was apparently really fucking hot and really fucking heavy because Eridan was attempting to stifle an incredibly husky sounding whine in the back of his throat.

“And fuck you into the mattress,” you finished, and the boy practically fucking sobbed as he threw his arms around your shoulders and rolled his hips against you, the dirty little thing he was, and you locked those swollen lips of his in a kiss that would have fucking choked him if he hadn't pulled away a second later.

He pulled you close enough to get your earlobe in his mouth to suck and nibble on it, then breathed, “Goddamnit, Davve, fuck me”, and you were pretty much gone after that. It took all of your fucking strength to keep yourself from wobbling as your legs suddenly felt suspiciously like pudding, and your dick twitched so violently that you were pretty sure it was having a fucking seizure, and you were pretty fucking sure that momentary spark in Eridan's eyes was because he knew exactly how you were feeling even though you were being a pro at not showing it, and goddamnit, goddamnit, you were so fucking in love with just the sluttiest fucking person you had ever met, troll or otherwise, and your life was fucking good.

You hooked Eridan's right leg over your shoulder and pressed a supporting hand against the small of his back, because even though the counter had been the hottest fucking idea you'd had in a while, the angle was honestly a little awkward. He moaned in anticipation as he leaned back on the counter, sliding his hips closer to the edge so you could slide your cock into him. He was so fucking slick that it took absolutely no effort and you pulled him farther down onto you. He wrapped his arms around your neck as he whined and keened, clearly enjoying being filled with you, but the angle kept you from thrusting in balls-deep and you could already tell this was going to get frustrating before it got really fucking good. You pushed into him as deeply as you could, which was apparently the right amount of depth for Eridan because he writhed under your touch, running his claws down your spine much harder than he ever had before, gripping the back of your neck until you could feel him pierce skin, and pressing his forehead so tightly against yours that you could have sworn he was trying to brain-fuck you.

He was so fucking hot in both appearance and temperature, much hotter than usual, and the amount of fluid that was leaking out of him was fucking ridiculous. His nook slid around you with no difficulty, and you swore it wasn't even as uncomfortably tight as it usually was. Even so, the shallow thrusts with only the upper half of your cock did nothing but tease you as badly as you had just been teasing him, and the effort you were putting into trying to press deeper was doing a better job of tiring you out than getting you off. You pulled him closer, tried to angle yourself upwards more, but nothing relieved your building frustrating as you grunted from the effort.

And then his bulge was wrapped around the base of your cock, slick and warm, and stroking you in time with your thrusts, and you heard that fucker chuckle for half-a-fucking-second and just forced him down around you until he squealed in pleasure because you were grateful as shit for him helping you out, but you were still Dave Fucking Strider, and you were still mostly in charge, you hoped. But Eridan's bulge wrapped around you was exactly was you had needed, and the overwhelming sensation of pleasure was getting to be a bit too much, and you braced your free hand against the counter top because you were not about to let yourself collapse yet, and his hands were on your cheeks, and his breath panting against your skin, and you fucking lost it, thrusting raggedly into him as every nerve in your fucking body sparked off blinding hot fireworks in your brain. In a moment of nearly inhuman coherency, your reached down to stroke and squeeze the bulge wrapped around you and that was all it took to send Eridan over the edge, wailing your name as his orgasm made the absolute most disgusting and weirdly enticing mess all over the counter top and kitchen floor.

You slipped out of him as you leaned against the counter, holding Eridan against you as he shivered and panted, coming off of his high, and damned if you weren't panting just as hard as he was. You ran a hand over his back, massaging his neck and shoulders lightly as you just enjoyed feeling him against you, just needing that for a second, and was that too much to ask?

And it wasn't, because you could have this whenever you wanted now.

You spent a good minute letting the warmth of that thought fill your sweaty, shivering self before Eridan groaned and pulled you immediately out of your happy thoughts.

“Fuckin' hell, look at this mess!” he shouted, completely repulsed by some shit you had seriously just forgot even existed, so you just tossed him a perfunctory “uh huh” before continuing to get your snuggle on.

“I'm serious, Davve!” he said, a snarl starting to creep into his voice. “Could you fuckin' move so I can deal wwith this?”

And now it was time for you to get your snarl on as you held an earfin in each hand and stared him in the eyes. “No, Eridan! I can't! I don't fucking care about the mess. I'm too busy caring about how you're leaving, and I'm going to miss the fucking shit out of you, okay?!”

His face softened immediately, and he wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you into a bomb-ass killer hug. “Okay.”

The next morning he left for his self-appointed mission with a small sack of supplies, a kiss, and the long overdue knowledge that you were seriously, unironically in love with the dumbest fucking hipster toolbag you had ever met.