splitmemory | floriddle shenanigans

[ Being cornered isn't a feeling that Riddle enjoys. Trapped, unable to get free.

If he wanted, if he really wanted to, he could easily overpower Floyd. Not with his body, with his nonexistent strength, but with his magic. Those flames that burn as bright as his own hair, that unique spell of his to cut off Floyd's magic so he can't rely on that. No, that's how he knows he doesn't feel trapped, even as Floyd works to ease him into a quiet space, even as he's stumbling back to try and accommodate instead of squirming free. It's different.

Less trapped. More... ]

No..-- No. Not here.

[ Riddle's hands are falling, reaching out, grasping onto the sleeve of the other student's uniform jacket. ]

... [ Look, he's trying to swallow down his pride. Give him a second. ] Get me to my dorm. I need...

[ He can't say it. He won't. Instead? He's taking the slightest step closer, tugging on Floyd's sleeve in such a way that demands he press a hand against his waist. Demanding touch; closeness, something that Riddle would vehemently deny otherwise. He needs it right now. To feel that closeness that he knows, deep down, he's been avoiding for so very long. ]

[Floyd himself isn't a fan of restriction. In fact, there's nothing he hates more. But being burned and collared, ground beneath a pointed heel-- He takes that as a challenge.

He half expects to be reduced to cinders, so when Riddle instead makes his demand, Floyd tilts his head and quiets, mismatched eyes focused on the smaller boy's face.

... This is usually the part where Azul's prized guard dog makes his own demands in turn. What's in it for him? What are the terms? Just how benevolent is he willing to be? And yet here he is, leaning in so close he's practically Riddle's crutch. One bad move and Riddle will fall. One bad move and Floyd will fuck this up.

His heart thrums as he not only rests a hand on Riddle's waist, but also ducks down to support his legs. Assuming someone isn't a wiggle worm and accepts his generously free princess hold, Floyd fully intends to be a good boy and do as he's told.]

[ And, usually, this is the part where Riddle would make some sort of threat, if Floyd dared to touch him like this on any normal day. Riddle lets out the smallest of gasps, his hand moving from Floyd's sleeve to instead grasp the front of his uniform, clutching onto him as if he was worried he might be dropped.

There's none of that fire. Not as much as usual, for sure. Riddle's warm - maybe a little too warm - as he shifts to press close to Floyd, all but burying his face against the other student, using his hand to help him hide his face. Why? Because... he'll be damned if anyone sees him willingly allowing Floyd to carry him, even if his hair was a dead giveaway. That, and... being close like this felt so right. Comforting.

Riddle's quiet on their journey to his dorm. There's a shift here and there, a little squirming, but nothing too major. The only time he speaks up, or shifts to try and squirm away, is once they've actually passed through the mirror, gotten to Heartslabyul.

Pushing his hand against Floyd's chest, he breathes out a shaky little huff of a breath, ]

Put me down. [ Says the little housewarden, as his fingers play with one of the buttons of Floyd's own uniform vest. ] I can walk the rest of the way.

[Floyd could be considerate and take his jacket off to cover up Riddle's head, but, well, he's already carrying him, isn't he? And what's more, this poor goldfish is burning up. Floyd shouldn't make it worse. So as much as it ~~brings him great amusement~~ pains him to leave a poor unfortunate soul's needs unmet, Riddle will have to leave that precious red face exposed for all of campus to see.

No need to worry. Floyd has a feeling he'll be able to make this up to him very, very soon.]

Nope~

[comes the carefree reply. As much as he wants to entertain those sneaky fingers, Floyd risks his head and continues onward, weaving through hedgemazes and dodging butter-and-toast-flies to reach the dorms. Alright. Maybe he's a little impatient now, made evident when he approaches the Housewarden's quarters and strikes it open with a kick.]

Ahuh~ I didn't even know if this would be your dorm~ For all I knew this could've been Sea Bream's and we would've walked in on him kissin' Sea Turtle or whatever.

[Floyd sounds too awfully cheerful about all that as he crosses the room and gingerly eases Riddle down atop his bed.]

Better?

Hey-!

[ Riddle only gets out the littlest of protests before they're on the move again, headed right along through the shrubbery. It's so indecent, isn't it? Someone like Floyd carrying the Housewarden of this domain, as if he's a dainty little thing. He is, but that isn't the point--

His complaints only get him so far. It's not like he wants to be dropped. No, he'll sit still long enough to get to his dorm if he must. He'll even bury his face right back against Floyd, taking in another breath to try and still his pounding heart.

Ugh... ]

Must you sound so happy suggesting my Vice be doing such things-- [ He doesn't have much time to focus on that thought. The second he's set down, the flush to his face is obvious. Clear, just how bad it'd gotten through their journey. How dazed he seems to be, his eyes unfocused as he props himself up on one elbow.

The other hand reaches out, grabs onto Floyd again. This time, harder. More rough, needy, demanding he lean down. ]

... No.

[ Worse, really. But that's only because-- ]

I need... [ He hates this. He hates this!!! ] If you were serious about courting me-- prove it. Kiss me.

[Oh? What’s this? Even more demands? Well, now someone’s just being greedy.

And it isn’t as if Floyd is much better.

He’s on the little rose in a shake of a tail fin, burying his face into his neck with all the fervor of a starving predator. How does he smell so sweet? How does he feel so soft?

Fuck, been wanting to do this for years.]

‘kay~

[With shoes haphazardly kicked to the side, Floyd presses a knee to the bed and leans in, tongue eagerly coiling with Riddle’s own once he’s tasted his lips.]

[ It's a lot. The sudden closeness, the feel of Floyd's face pressed against his neck, taking in all he could get. Riddle can't hold back the gasp, the way his opposite hand comes up to tangle his fingers into Floyd's hair.

By now, he's too distracted to complain. Besides, who could complain once they're getting what they want?

Riddle makes a soft noise in surprise as Floyd practically jumps at the opportunity. If he wasn't out of breath before, he dann well was losing the rest of it now.

Almost completely by instinct, his tongue dances with Floyd's, to the rhythm of a song that's only theirs. He squirms under the other boy enough to kick off his own shoes, not caring where they land. No, the only thing that matters is getting Floyd closer. Can the other boy feel Riddle's growing desperation? If not, it probably becomes more evident with how he begins to try and pull Floyd further in, almost begging for added contact.

Closer. Closer-- he's going to get what he wants, no matter what. His lips part further, offer more access. Does he need to give Floyd verbal permission, or will his dear classmate understand his need for touch, for closeness? ]

[How long has he dreamed about this, fantasized about this exact moment—Riddle beneath him, pining for him, giving him attention like he’s never known before?

Fabric rustles as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to the floor, never more than a second or two away from Riddle’s touch. He barely manages to undo his belt buckle before impatience takes over and he’s kissing him again with equal hunger.

Closer. Closer. He’s going to give Riddle what he wants. Tongue, teeth, his rock hard cock straining between his legs… Over and over Floyd rocks his hips, shamelessly rutting against Riddle’s body.]

So cute~

[he mutters in between gasps for air, forehead pressed to Riddle’s own.]

[ For the smaller boy, it's more difficult to get off any of his clothes. Sure, he can wriggle his arms free of his jacket, tug his shirt from past his pants where it was tucked in, undo some of the buttons to open his vest and start on the button up under, but there are so many layers.

So many things to remove, when he really does just wish they could get right down to it.

Funny, if they just thought about it for long enough, they could possibly use magic to speed up the process.

Seven, his mind was not only addled with the idea of lust, he's being given everything he could ever want. He's gasping, whimpering into the other's mouth at the feeling of their bodies pressed so firmly together, the pleasure of Floyd's cock against his own. He can't take it, and yet. He wants more. ]

Cute? In what world am I cute-- [ He's a little embarrassed, sorry Floyd, he hasn't been called cute all that often!! ]

Watch your mouth or-- or...

[ Riddle whines as he feels Floyd rock against him in just a specific way. There's something unstable about his magic in this moment, as he's thinking of a specific threat he's going to pose, and....

Floyd will find a certain lock clamping over his throat. Completely by accident, by the way. ]

[Using magic to undress would be the smart thing to do… though perhaps not in the heat of the moment.

Case in point.

Floyd laughs, ready to lean back in for another kiss… when suddenly searing hot pain ricochets across his skin, severing thousands upon millions of magical connections in one fell swoop. It stings, it burns, and after faltering backward with a yelp, Floyd stares at the all-too familiar lock in stunned bewilderment.

… The apples of his cheeks quickly blossom—a tint of peachy red.]

Whoa…

[Floyd finally whispers, looking to Riddle next.]

… So cool.

[ The little red queen hadn't meant to do that. That yelp startles him, as does the way Floyd falters back, his own eyes widening as he spots that signature lock of his.

Pushing himself to sit up on his elbows, Riddle stares up at him. His face, which was already pretty crimson red, flushes even further. He stammers, unable to form anything even close to proper words. What's he supposed to give? An apology? An explanation? Neither of those would allow him to hold onto his own pride.

So he just stares for a second longer, before flopping back down onto his back, bringing his hand up to cover his face. ]

Only you would find that cool...! I didn't even mean to--...!!

[ His words might sound snappy, but really, he's. Embarrassed. Unable to hide it. ]

Don't sit there gawking, either!

Mngh… Goldfishiiie…

[Floyd begins to whine, uselessly yanking at his collar once the pain outweighs the novelty. Any amount of complaint on Riddle’s end, predictably, goes unaddressed.]

Take it off already. I can’t kiss you when I’m wearin’ it.

[… Well. Maybe Riddle’s complaints won’t go unaddressed for too long. Though he continues to pout, Floyd’s instinctive need to fuss at Riddle and soothe that silly outburst persists. Sitting up, he carefully prods at the other teen’s leg with his foot.]

C’mon, I ain’t gawkin’, ok?

I-- I will take it off when I feel like taking it off!

[ Riddle puffs out. His emotions are running high alongside his hormones, sorry Floyd. If he's meant to calm down, he certainly won't with just a moment's time. He's hard, too warm from his damn Heat (that he now realizes is happening in full force), frustrated that he can't have his desires sated right now without stripping down, and most of all?

Most of all, he's mad that he wants Floyd Leech so so so very badly. That he wants to be claimed by him, to be used and his and-- ]

Then what do you call that look?! [ Honestly, not surprising they'd get to this point and then Riddle would fuss. It's just who he is. He moves his leg, shoving his foot at Floyd's thigh, ] You're looking at me in this way and I cannot -- WILL not -- stand for it. I can't take it. It makes me feel... weird.

[ Yeah, he's pouting. What of it. ] ... I'll forgive you if you help me get my pants off. It hurts.

I was only looking a little!

[Whatever that means.

Floyd isn’t exactly well-versed in calming people down, let alone Riddle Rosehearts. If anything, he feels compelled to keep poking and prodding just to see how far he can go without being burned to a crisp. Tempting as that sounds, Floyd would rather not spoil the moment right now. What can he say? It hurts for him too.]

Ngh… C’mere.

[he grumbles before fiddling with the button and zipper to Riddle’s fly. His fingers pause, however, just before he hooks them into the waistband.

They’re really doing this, aren’t they? He’s about to see more, so much more of Riddle’s body than ever before. It’s… almost overwhelming. Nevertheless, he tugs, helping slip one leg out after the other. All things considered, he’s surprisingly delicate. For now.]

[ It's. Yeah, it's really overwhelming, to have hands there there. Fingers pushing and pressing, maneuvering the fabric of the pants to get the fly undone. The pause isn't unnoticed. It is, however, not commented on, as Riddle's eyes watch Floyd's hands oh so closely.

This is embarrassing. He hates it; being exposed, even with just his pants off so far. It's scandalous in a way, too, isn't it? Should they really be doing this on school grounds? Should they be doing this at all?

Instead of focusing on those thoughts, Riddle shifts to sit himself up, enough that he can finally fully get the vest and jacket off and out of the way. His tie and button up were next, but--

He said he'd forgive Floyd, didn't he? He should remove that collar. Instead? He finds himself staring, shuffling closer, reaching out to grab at Floyd's pants too... without really looking where his hands are trying to go. ]

Being collared is a good look on you.

[ The words slip out before he can think. ]

Edited 2024-12-06 21:55 (UTC)

[… Floyd can’t help it. He gawks, shameless and on the verge of drooling from such a display. He wants to bite his own hand in disbelief. This sort of thing doesn’t just… happen. Maybe between merfolk and other merfolk, yes, but… a human? The human he’s had his eyes on since that day in the mirror chamber. He isn’t so much shocked as he is amazed, feeling as if he might take off flying at any moment.

And then he says it.

Being collared is a good look on you.

His hands reach out, one grabbing Riddle’s waist while the other yanks his underwear to one side, exposing what he can only guess is a hot, sloppy mess to his awaiting fingers.]

You’re rilin’ me up, y’know.

[ Riddle's small fingers press, delicately grasping at the merman's fly, his fingers fumbling with it. It's much harder to take someone else's pants off, he's realizing. He also--

Can't think any further, when Floyd grabs him like that.

There's a gasp, a whimper as cold air hits that exposed, slick mess that'd previously been hidden by his underwear. ]

Good. I wouldn't want you to lose steam when I need you.

[ Embarrassing words continue to leave his lips. He shifts further, finally getting the button and the fly undone. He sits up slightly further on his knees, legs partway spread to accommodate for his hand. One of his own hands moves up to grab onto Floyd's shoulder, to keep himself steady. ]

... No one else will do.

[He immediately presses two fingers between Riddle’s cheeks, slicking them up and groping to keep him well spread. … He’s heard how “out of sorts” omegas can be when in full heat, enjoyed the sights and sounds of them on a naughty Magicam post or two, but… nothing compares to firsthand experience, does it?

His cock aches, full and heavy as it strains mere inches from Riddle’s touch. Sometimes he wears underwear. Sometimes. Today is not one of those times. Ultimately, to a merman, bare flesh will always feel the best.

It springs free, twitching and dribbling at the tip from Riddle’s babbling alone. Does he even know what he’s saying? Floyd doesn’t imagine he would, not when he’s this out of sorts.

Dragging his tongue along his teeth, Floyd grins and cups Riddle’s face without second thought.]

Ride me~

[ Ugh, his body felt so warm, heat seeming to travel through him with every touch of Floyd's fingers against his skin. Riddle's hips move almost on their own, grinding down against his fingers.

His own eyes peer down at Floyd's cock. Maybe under normal circumstances he'd worry, think that maybe it'd be too much for him, but... right now? Right now he can't think of any concerns, any worries he might have. All he knows is he wants him, wants to feel how deep he can press inside of him, to have that pre dribble directly inside him instead of coating his tip.

It's when Floyd cups his cheeks, gives him that little demand, that Riddle listens. He nods, moving himself slowly. Carefully, to move to straddle Floyd's hips. One of his hands wraps lightly around Floyd, to help himself get positioned, with the assistance of Floyd already keeping him spread and ready.

Under any other circumstances, he might've thought about getting the rest of his clothes off. To remove his underwear at least, to strip fully down from the waist down. He might've even remembered to remove that collar from around Floyd's neck.

Instead, he's grinding himself down against Floyd's tip, panting softly with an unfocused need. ]

You-- you won't leave until I'm satisfied, yes? Promise me.

[This is agony. Floyd’s never felt so stimulated in his entire life. The intoxicating cocktail of pheromones is sending him into a frenzy, like a shark to a single drop of blood. He’s certain Riddle could ask anything of him right now and he’d gladly oblige.]

H-haha~

[he laughs, dizzy as he grips Riddle’s hips and helps ease his body down onto his throbbing tip. He’s huge, he’s been told, by horrified teammates in the gym locker room. He wonders if humans like that… if Riddle likes that… As delirious as Floyd is, he too forgets all about the collar and leans back, legs spread to accommodate Riddle on his way down.]

You fucking bet I promise~

[Because what is a promise but a verbal contract?]

Edited 2024-12-07 00:01 (UTC)

[ There's a lot of length to cover, so much to take in. Their scents mingling together, alongside the smell of... well, he supposes it's the smell of sex.

There's another whimper that bubbles up as his body is slowly eased down, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. It's so hard not to lose himself then and there. His opposite's dick is basically a natural aphrodisiac, easily coated in Riddle's own fluids as he pressed further down.

Both hands finally make it up to Floyd's shoulders, fingers curling against him. He can't take the slow pace, even if he knows he should pace himself.

So. His body tenses in response, sure, but he's shoving himself all the way down, a choked moan escaping the housewarden as he hilts Floyd inside of him. He doesn't stop there-- oh, no. There's too much that he wants.

Pulling himself up partway, he starts to try and find a pace that he can manage, but fuck he's already shaking, a patch of wetness forming at the front of his underwear as his dick leaks with pre. ]

Haa... [ Can Floyd see how delirious he is? How set he is on having as much as he wants? ] ... why... do I always deal with this alone? This feels so, so much better.

[Curiously, perhaps selfishly too, Floyd wonders if Riddle’s done this with anyone else. At school, at home, right under his mama’s nose… Riddle’s surprised him before, after all. Or, for all Floyd knows (and secretly hopes), he’s Riddle’s first.

But he forgets to ask. He forgets to see, speak, breathe, because soon he’s enrobed in the most luxurious, mind numbing heat he’s ever known. Far better than his own hand, leagues better than some dumb toy.

With Riddle settled down to the hilt, Floyd thinks he can catch his breath long enough to think straight, but, oh, how wrong he is. Of course, Riddle infamously works on his own terms. His own rules, his own sentencing, come before the verdict. In other words: maybe Riddle knows how to get what he wants just as much as Azul. A greedy little goldfish… Floyd can’t wait to devour him.]

Right~?

[he coos, drawing Riddle close. He feels himself leaking—hot and sticky inside the smaller boy’s hole.]

You should’ve called me sooner~ I would’ve taken good care of you.

[For emphasis, Floyd thrusts his hips upward and bottoms out, gyrating to keep himself sheathed for a few seconds longer.]

Edited 2024-12-07 00:53 (UTC)

[ The answer to that question wouldn't surprise anyone. This was the first time he'd let anyone so much as touch him, kiss him, to be inside of him. No, even those he trusted so dearly hadn't seen him like this.

It wouldn't have been right. Not when they weren't the person he wanted.

Riddle gasps again as he's pulled in closer, his legs spreading slightly more to allow for the closeness. He's got the muscles for this. It shouldn't be hard for him in theory, to ride Floyd to his heart's content. What makes it so much harder was the movements of the other boy, the way their hips press together.

It's driving him insane. ]

I-- [ Riddle's words are cut off by another moan at the way Floyd thrusts up into him, his hands clutching hard onto his shoulders in response. ] Wouldn't. Asking for that, I can't--

[ The words are stammered out, his mind struggling to keep up with the movements of their bodies, of his own quick, harsh movements to get everything he wants. He does, however, manage to finally meet Floyd's gaze again, brows furrowed in thought. What thoughts is a wonder, all things considered. ]

...You would have, really?

[ To be taken care of, to be given all he wants; isn't that what he wants? What he yearns for? Through labored breaths, he makes another demand, one that was far less reasonable than the last. ]

Don't make me ask you to do so. Prove it. How well you would've taken care of me. Make me reach climax again and again and again until all I can think about is you. I don't want to just imagine it anymore.

[ ... Nope, he didn't mean to say that part aloud. He clamps his hand over his mouth, hoping Floyd somehow missed it. He's kind of quiet anyways-- ]

Edited 2024-12-07 01:29 (UTC)

[As Riddle’s nails pinch into his shoulders, Floyd wishes he had bare skin for him to ruin instead. So, while it ruins their rhythm, it should only last a moment, Floyd gripping Riddle’s waist so hard he hopes he sits still. Just long enough to shrug out of his vest, just long enough to tug off his sleeves—

Thankfully, Riddle’s muttering seems to allow Floyd just enough time to undress. Smooth, lean, hard muscle— It’s easy to forget Floyd is a natural born athlete.

And perhaps too hotblooded for his own good.]

Poor Goldfishie… Sounds like you’ve got a serious problem~

[he purrs, as slippery as an eel as he gently takes Riddle’s hand and tries to pry it away toward his own lips instead. He wants to bite at the cuff of his shirt, nibble at the pale skin of the little rose’s wrist… If he can’t bite his neck, he’ll have to settle for somewhere else. Whether or not Floyd’s successful in tugging Riddle’s hand away from his mouth, he does eventually roll his hips upward to provide some ounce of relief… and more reasons to hopefully hear Riddle cry out loud.]

I could get used to that dirty mouth of yours~

[ Riddle's not so strong that he could keep from stilling for even a moment. The hard grip on his waist makes him stop moving, to pause, his breath catching. His body felt so full with Floyd so deep inside of him. Being made to sit still for even a moment made that so obvious to him, so overwhelming of a feeling even without moving at all.

He's not going to complain about the other taking time to undress, though. His one hand now presses against his bare shoulder, shaky fingers pressing in directly against him, nails poised to dig in.

Floyd would find that it's not a difficult task to pull his hand away from his mouth, to draw it over to his own. Riddle doesn't exactly try to stop him or keep his hand pressed over his mouth....

Which is a good thing, because it means the moment Floyd rolls his hips, there's nothing to muffle the downright whorish moan that slips out, the little cry, and the whine that follows. ]

You better not. [ His hand is juuuust close enough to Floyd's face that he can push at his cheek, to squirm in protest at those words. ] My mouth is not dirty -- all it is are the thoughts that come with this damned Heat. They... don't mean anything.

[ But they do. They do, because how else would they be so easily spilling from his lips? ]

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