Riddle Rosehearts (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crimsontyrant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
splitmemory2024-11-27 08:05 pm
crimsontyrant) wrote in splitmemory2024-11-27 08:05 pmfloriddle shenanigans
there's an a/b/o thread somewhere in there and it somehow started in a library, idk man
crimsontyrant) wrote in splitmemory2024-11-27 08:05 pm
no subject
His shaking hands clutch onto his only lifeline, not caring for a second if his nails manage to break skin, to press into Floyd so hard that he'd have marks for days. All he can think about is this moment, the feeling of those sharp thrusts, riding out his own orgasm in such a way that he's damn near going to make a further mess of himself.
Another pretty little cry passes from his lips at the feeling of that seed flooding his insides, marking his hole, his walls, his womb, all as Floyd's. His body tenses all over again, soft gasps and whimpers passing through those red lips of his.
And, finally, his grip on Floyd loosens, fingers press down into him more gently, his shaking hands still pressing against his back for a time, to let him come down from those highs of his. In true Riddle fashion, he lets out a soft huff, pulling one hand back from Floyd despite how hard he wants to cling to him, to press it against his own face, half glaring up at Floyd. ]
You're not allowed to pull out. You'll give me all you have.
[ A rule of his own is placed down, almost as harshly as he'd lay down any other rule, even with how his voice shakes. ]
You have to take responsibility. Make me yours, inside and out.
[ Sound fair? Reasonable? Logical? Probably not. He's deep into his heat, though -- there's no logic that would be found here, at this point. Where he's at now... the very idea that Floyd would want to pull out sounds cruel. That he'd want to avoid filling him with his seed, to keep from letting him feel that delectable full feeling...
Is that a pout? A little. He's so similar to Floyd in that way, after all. The way he could flip on a dime and be so stern. ]
no subject
Though most importantly, his.
There’s no need to question logic or reason. Not when it makes clear sense, right? Lifting his head, Floyd stares down at that sweet little pout before leaning in to nudge Riddle’s temple.]
Then I guess these’ll have to go~
[After grabbing the waistband of Riddle’s underwear, Floyd quite literally tears them off with a satisfying rip, later digging his nails into the newly exposed, petal-soft skin. He palms at his cock, at the mess smeared behind, and when Floyd shifts to his knees he jerks him off nice and slow. There. No need for him to pull out.]
You’re so cute…
[he growls, grabbing hold of Riddle’s thighs so he can pull his body toward his thrust. Again and again he continues to thrust, shuddering each time he feels the tip of his cock striking Riddle’s womb. Faster. Rougher. He fucks him so hard he rattles the bed against the wall, until a second orgasm no-less powerful than the last floods those trembling insides.
Still, Floyd doesn’t stop.]
C’mere…
[Barely coasting off the high of his last climax, he quickly aims for another, sharply pistoning his hips to ensure every last drop of seed stays firmly rooted in Riddle’s belly. Teeth find a collarbone, a shoulder, a pulse— There will be zero doubt on where these angry red marks came from, that’s for certain.]
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There's a slight gasp that slips out as the fabric tears. Riddle opens his mouth further to complain, but is quickly distracted by the nails digging in against his skin, the palm against his messy cock. The way Floyd shifts inside him, jerks him. Riddle can't help but whine in need, his breath coming out in hot, heavy little puffs.
Both of his hands fall back down in full, fingers grasping pathetically at the sheets of his bed, as if he could grab on and cling to them in a way that'd distract him from the overwhelming pleasure that was just having his mate here, inside of him like this. ]
Huh-? I'm not-- Floyd...!! [ The complaint is cut off by a loud cry of the other boy's name, with the way Floyd thrusts forward into him, pulling him into it, slamming into him with the ferocity Riddle had damn well begged for, but somehow hadn't been ready for. It's so much, so fast, so rough, that he can feel the building pressure in himself.
He's seeing white, squeezing his eyes shut. Unable to process his own second orgasm as it hits, his focus only on the feeling of that pulsing cock inside of him, filling him with more and more of that seed he so desired.
Those teeth, the feeling of his bites were just as sweet as those thrusts inside of him. His eyes open, halfway, to peer at the stronger boy. He squirms-- if he just moves the right way, he can bring his own leg up, to hook it over Floyd's shoulder. He's damn lucky he's flexible enough to make it happen, as it allows him to turn his upper body some, enough to try and expose the nape of his neck further. To give Floyd more space to work.
To press his face against his arm, to try and stifle his own cries. Still, he tries to stammer, to reply in some form, to babble out a few words amidst his haze, ]
The whole dorm is going-- to hear me, if you're not careful.
[ Because, duh, that's Floyd's fault. ]