yay humpday!
🫀 floyd leech x (fem) reader
🫀 sub floyd, dry humping, exhibitionism(? idk), does this count as body worship?? i never know what im doing ok
🫀 note: yeah another stitch event one shut up shut upppppp dont look at me ok. the event rerun had me thinking “wait….. the clothes not being able to come off….. it’s……… actually fire…?” so i wrote this in an hour at four in the morning and you can tell. promise i’ll write something else soon. probably. shut up!!!!!!
Soft panting and beads clanking together filled the air in the bungalow, the room pitch black save for the yellow glow from Floyd’s eye as he desperately rut against your ass through your shorts.
His arm was wrapped around your neck to pin you back to his chest, his mindless pace never slowing despite the pain in his knees from the wooden floors.
“I want it off, I want ’em off…” he murmured, his free hand uselessly trying again to pull your shorts down to no avail—this stupid island made it impossible to take the shorts off. It wasn’t fair; everyone else was able to take off their shirts at most, but it wouldn’t even let yours budge. It wasn’t fair! How could it put you in that outfit, your tits practically spilling out from your top, your shorts just a bit too cheeky, thighs bare for him to look at all day and then not let him take any of it off?
He whined, pulling back to watch his cock straining in his shorts as he humped you.
“Shush.” you whispered, looking back at him over your shoulder. “If anyone wakes up, I’ll kill you.”
You’re only letting him do this in a room full of sleeping people because he was so annoying about it the past three days. He’d ask, he’d beg, he’d grope you any chance he’d get, he’d pull you aside and try to eat you out through your shorts, he’d have you sit on his face, he’d had an almost constant hard-on the entire time you’ve been on the island, constantly tugging at his waistband just to see if maybe this time it’ll work… You almost felt sorry for him.
“I’m tryna, Shrimpy…” His grip on your hips tightened and his pace grew rougher, precum leaking through the fabric. “I want inside…”
He always wanted inside. Always wanted to feel you wrapped around his cock, to feel your walls twitch and squeeze, to remind him how perfectly he fit, like he was made for you and only you.
But he couldn’t, and it was frustrating as much as it was achingly painful.
His touch wandered up your hips, over your sides, up your midriff so he could squeeze and knead at your plush tits through your top. Everything about them was perfect to him. They’re so soft, so comfortable, so pretty, he loved the beautiful imperfections, he loved when you’d reward him with a titjob when he’s been particularly good, he loved suckling on them while you’d slowly grind on his dick.
Floyd let out a shaky moan, letting his body drape over your arched back. “Shrimpy’s so pretty…” he mumbled. “Pretty face, pretty tits, pretty ass, pretty thighs…”
He shifted on his knees and brought a hand down between your thighs, fingers rubbing your cunt in time with his thrusts. He was pleasantly surprised with the soft gasp it elicited from you, the seam in your shorts hit against your clit just right.
He immediately perked up.
“Ahah, I gotcha makin’ a noise?” he drawled. He leaned back, gripping your waist with the other hand so he could pound himself against your flesh, soft plaps of skin-on-skin (and fabric-on-fabric) audible.
You bit at your lip to keep your noises at bay, head resting in your arms on the floor. “Floyd, sh-shut up and keep going.” you hissed, hips subconsciously bouncing back with his movements.
He panted heavily, precum freely leaking out through his clothes and onto yours. His middle finger repeatedly pressed the seam into your clit, pace picking up. “I’m doing g-good, right? I’m being a good boy, Shrimpy?”
You only nodded in response, thighs clamping together around his hand as you felt the coil in your core tighten. Your breath was heavy, yet nowhere near as loud as his—you still had some mindfulness for everyone around them.
He never would, though.
“I really like you…” he giggled, eyes fluttering the closer he got. “Sh-Shrimpy—“
“Now isn’t the t-time to run your mouth.”
“Can’t, I can’t, you feel so good—“ He gasped, his pace growing sloppy and uncoordinated, his finger pressing harder. “I c-can’t help it, I can’t help—Gonna cum—“
The hand on your waist absentmindedly moved up to press on your back, pinning your upper body to the floor. “Are you—Are you gonna cum with me, Shrimpy?” he whined, his cock staining and pulsing beneath the fabric.
“Be q-quiet—“ You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing throughout your body with each press of his finger on your clit.
“Please—Please cum with me, Shrimpy, I’ve b-been trying so hard to be good, I need it, please—“ His babbling was cut short with a gasp, his hips giving a few harsh pounds against you as he came, white shooting from beneath the fabric and oozing into the back of your shorts.
Your own orgasm crashed over you at the same time, body tensing fully and eyes rolling up with your teeth biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself silent.
Left panting, Floyd collapsed forward onto you. It really wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed, but it would have to do for the moment. He nuzzled into the back of your neck, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his cum-soaked fabric against his skin. “Shrimpy…”
“Shut it. You were way too loud.” you grumbled, too unbothered to squirm beneath his heavy body crushing you. You didn’t even want to think about how you were supposed to go about the stains on your clothes.
“We’re fiiine, nobody woke up.”
The moment those words left Floyd’s mouth, a subtle rustling was heard nearby in the room and Ace’s head popped up from the sea of half-a-dozen other people, his face red and tired and unamused. “Nope, somebody’s definitely up.”
A silence washed over the three, your and Floyd’s eyes wide. After a few beats, Floyd mumbled, “‘Night, Crabby.”
“Hey, don’t just ‘night’ me—“
“‘Night, Crabby.”
