Riff was in his room, reading a book. It was peaceful in the moment... until he heard a loud crash. "Ouch!" a loud voice exclaimed from the other room, maybe the kitchen. Riff tentatively stood up and exited the room to see what the conundrum was all about.
When he first stepped foot in the hallway, the conspicuous scent of hotdogs filled his nostrils. From the corner of his eye, the kitchen entry was in sight, as well as a bright pink blob. He immediately knew it was Floyd, his roommate.
Before Floyd came along, Riff was basically forced by their landlord to find a roommate. So, he thought the easiest way would be to put up a roommate request on a random domain he'd found. Most of the people who wanted to move in were creepy old men, so seeing Floyd was an immediate relief. He asked for confirmation of Floyd's identity and he almost instantly fell in love.
Anyways back to now.
Floyd spun around when he heard Riff's footsteps. His face was pouty and adorable as he held his hand in his other. On the floor was a large metal pot, and from there Riff could practically assume the situation.
"I dropped the pot on my hand..." Floyd mutters, looking back down at his hand. "How the hell do you even do that?" Riff asked. It was a serious question, how does someone drop a whole ass pot on their literal hand?
"I don't know, I-I was trying to make lunch for us," Floyd said, turning around and avoiding eye contact with them. His attention was now turned to the meal he had said he'd made, which was indeed a plate of hotdogs. "And how exactly do you need pots for that?" Riff enquired again. "I DON'T KNOW! I'M NOT GORDON RAMSEY AND I HAVEN'T COOKED IN A WHILE!" Floyd groaned now getting a bit defensive.
"Jesus," Riff mumbled under their breath, but Floyd still heard. "I'm sorry, Y/n... Do you, uhm, want a glizzy?" He grabbed the plate and blushed before handing it to Riff. "I figured you could add your own condiments so I didn't put them on. I didn't want to mess it up."
Riff stared back at Floyd, honored by his kindness. He looked so cute holding those hotdogs and Riff imagined one of those hotdogs as his cock.
'Get your mind out of the gutter, Riff', he mentally scolded himself. How dare he think of his roommate this way!
Riff took the hotdog, his face flushed. He didn't want to spend another second looking at his cute little Floydy-pants before his own pants came off. "Thanks, Floyd," Riff muttered before hastily making his way back to his room.
After eating, Riff made his way back to the living room. In there, Floyd was watching TV, but before Riff even noticed that, he noticed the fact that Floyd was wearing his shirt...
Riff gave Floyd that shirt to sleep in when he first moved in and the moving truck was stuck in traffic, so it wouldn't get there until the day after. It was only now that Riff really realized his shirt was stolen by Floyd. But god he was so hot that Riff didn't even care.
"Floyd, what's up? I thought you'd be sleeping," Riff said, sitting down next to him whilst running his hand through his hair tiredly. "Wait, really? Is it that late already?" Floyd checked his phone, and to his surprise, it was almost already midnight. "Oh... I didn't realize what time it was I guess, haha..." Floyd stood up, heading to his room, but Riff reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Wait... don't leave," he murmured, realizing how awkward the situation was. "Oh, uhm, alright!" Floyd said smiling before sitting back down. "I was just watching a movie anyway, you can watch it with me."
Riff snuggled back into his seat. As the movie progressed, a smutty scene came on screen. "O-Oh, wow," Floyd said, looking away. Though Riff noticed how flushed Floyd's face was, and then... the bulge in his boxers.
It seemed that he had noticed before Floyd had until he started shifting around in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust his erection. He hoped Riff hadn't noticed the bulge but it was too late. Riff also started to feel his own pants tighten around his lap.
Floyd subconsciously manspread, his bulge much more visible now.
Riff tried to look briskly away. But he couldn't stop himself from taking peeks at the massive tent he was pitching. Now he were curious... and the moment was already awkward enough as it was so why not go all for it?
Riff swallowed the lump in his throat and reached out to grab Floyd's clad dick. Floyd was heavily caught off guard and he whimpered a bit. "W-What was that for, Riff?" Floyd shakily muttered out, his voice stuttering as he takes in these amazing sensations on his crotch.
Riff takes Floyd's cock out of his pants and starts full-on stroking his meat stick now. Floyd continued whimpering and moaning, his hips bucking upward. "I want you, Floyd," Riff said. "I want to feel you around me." That alone made Floyd bust EVERYWHERE. But Riff licked the seed of life off of his hand and smiled.
"R-Riff..." Floyd mumbled, though it sounded disjointed. "Please..." Riff's grin only grew wider each second Floyd whined and whimpered. "Tell me what you want," he said. Floyd paused for a second. "Uhm I have an ink kink." He looked away before continuing, "I like pouring ink on people or vice versa. It's degrading and creates a dynamic..."
Riff was shocked but he didn't back away ... ink play? I didn't think that was even a thing! Riff didn't have any ink in their apartment besides a few pens. "Give me a minute, Floyd," Y/n said before leaving the room.
He came back with a pack of pens and a cup. He broke the tip off all of the pens and poured the residual ink into the cup. It wasn't completely filled, but it was good enough. Floyd was grateful for such a sweet roommate.
"So how does this work again?" Riff asked. "Well," Floyd began, "one thing I like is using the ink as lube. It makes things smoother."
Riff gasped. Again, however, he didn't back away. Instead he moved closer and opened the bottle...
