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Another day, another ichor run. Endless monotony you and your party were forced to endure. You sat on a machine, sighing as you wished everyone had just agreed on tech savvy when it was available. No, we just had to gamble. You stared at the bubbling ichor behind the thick glass plane.
"...I can see you looking at me over there from the reflection."
Hiding behind a corner stood Sprout Seedly. Main toon. Healer. Beloved TV show star. And certified slacker.
His big red eyes stared at you with intensity. You knew he did it to scare people. But honestly, it pissed you off knowing the floor had just barely started, and Goob was out there in the trenches, distracting twisted Shelly and Vee. And here he was just watching and waiting like it was funny.
"Nooo, you can't," Sprout replies.
"Yes, the hell I-" You turn around just to see Sprout right up against your back. In a panic, you miss a skill check. The machine gurgles miserably. "Dude!"
"Heh heh. Sorry." Sprout smiles, though it never meets his eyes, "Just supervising is all."
"Ok, well." You take a shaky breath to stabilize yourself. "How about you supervise the machine over there?"
A hand snakes itself around the small of your waist, squeezing tenderly. "Nah. This is more interesting."
"Seedly." You hiss between barred teeth.
He rests his head in the valley of your neck, breathing in your scent. It's intoxicating, and mindlessly, he dry humps you like a dog.
Before you can yell, there's a hand to your lips.
"Play nice. Don't want anyone to see you like this, do you?"
Your hands tremble. Your grip on the cool steel is the only thing keeping you up as he starts grinding his rapidly hardening cock against your backside. Every word catches in your throat.
Despite the three layers of clothing between you two, you can tell he's already hard, and the stickiness of precum manages to seep right through his apron onto your back. He presses into you further, and your face is smooshed into the glass of the machine that's whining more than you.
He lets go of your mouth just to pull your hips up. Grinning like a poor man at his winning lottery ticket. The sight of his tented cock straining against the curvature of your ass was worth even more.
Those few neurons in your brain dedicated to logic and reasoning knew they had about 5 seconds to plead their case. "You idiot. You. Anyone could walk in right now..!"
"Im watchinggg..." his gaze lingers to the heartbeats off in the distance. But with the way he's fervently rutting against you, though, leaves you unconvinced.
"Wait a minute, you-" SKRTTT!
"What? Can't hear you over those skill checks."
He slips his hand down and starts touching you in ways god wouldn't approve of. The noises seeping out of you make your head dizzy with embarrassment, and you try to push him off, but he just pins your body right back into the glass.
The budding redness of your ears is enough to know he's not the only one feeling it by now.
"Come on. Keep extracting." He mocks, getting more brazen as he palms you through your own clothes. Knowing time wasn't on their side, his hand slips between the thin hem of your underwear and lets it roll into a bunch down your thighs.
"You, fucking—"
"Miss another skill check and the Twisteds are gonna find us~"
His cockhead kisses precum against your entrance, shaft pulsing lewdly against your ass. He's so annoying right now you actually hope your hole is tight enough to instantaneously neuter him. You manage to turn the machine's valve maybe twice till he thrusts his cock in and knocks all the breath out of your lungs. Saliva pools on your tongue from the long, wanton moan you let out.
His cock is so big its stupid. He knows that its stupid. Not that it mattered when he sets a brutal rhythm that has you drooling madly between your legs. Your pathetic expression makes him laugh and it reverberates right back into your quivering bones.
"Aww. Puppy. You losing your bite?" He taunts, watching your eyes glaze over, pressing a thumb against your lips just to hear more of those sweet noises slip out. Just watching you struggle to stand with your legs spreading further apart makes his heart swell in adoration.
It's filthy. The slapping echoes off the walls right back to your ears. White glistening stars dance across your vision. Sprout only thrusts in harder, deeper—knowing pure bliss was watching you become clay in his hands. He could deal with you being angry later. Even if he had to bake 1000 cupcakes in apology.
If Poppy walked by right now, there's no way you'd have any idea (Sprout did. He already shooed her away from voyeuring in with a wink and a hush. Her face was as red as Gigi's when she ran off). He forced your chin up to look at him, gaze all-consuming, composure unflappable even when fucking you senseless.
Despite it all, the machine was nearly done, the rhythm of his hips starting to slip. Against all that was good and holy, you knew, he was going to live up to his last name.
A hot gush of steaming white cum flooded what little space remained inside you. Sprout greedily continued to thrust through each contraction, making sure every last drop was spilled. Lines of spunk dripped down your shaky legs onto the chilly concrete floor.
The machine dinged.
The elevator door roared open.
You refused to make eye contact with anyone after that.