Work Text:
Orange's hurried footsteps echoes across the silent hall. They were on the second floor of the Skeld - the one that held all of the rooms for each of the crew members. With the work day still going on, nobody else was up here.
Nobody else except for Orange, of course.
They finally come to a halt in front of the door to their own room, grip shaky. The door only shows their name on a small LED screen at the top and little else, same with everybody else's doors. Only a select few crewmates have taken the time to add any extra bells and whistles (Cyan has some lovely artwork of their spirit animalmate posted up on their door, but that's besides the point here).
There's a hiss of air before the door finally opens up to them, not sparing a single second before rushing in and closing the door behind them. They ignore the ever growing pile of paperwork left on their desk and shoulder past whatever bits of clutter they have in the cramped space. The barely look at where they're going when they hop onto their bed, knees coming up and curling in on themself. Their fists are still clenched around the object in their grip.
With one last shaky breath, Orange finally unfurls their hands, revealing the treasure in their grasp - Yellow's favorite pizza cutter.
They still have no idea how - or even why - they did it. They were down in the kitchen, having a typical spat with Yellow and Brown about their current work schedule. Damn their union, granting them mandated 30 minute breaks!
The two of them were in the middle of making dinner for the day (a meatloaf that already carried a rich and meaty smell to it, despite being unfinished). Orange has to admit, both Yellow and Brown's ability to cook, tidy up their tools, and argue with Orange all at the same time is rather impressive.
While Yellow was in the middle of demonizing the simplicity of asking for a sick day at least two weeks ahead of time and Brown was poking through the shelf of spices, Orange's attention was caught by a glint in the corner of their visor. Right there, on the table next to them, was a lone pizza cutter.
They had no clue why it was still out there (did neither of them clean up fully after making the ships weekly pizza lunch earlier that day?), but Orange - without thinking - pocketed it while the others weren't looking. It was an impulsive, foolish decision that could've easily gone wrong, but somehow, neither of them noticed.
They swiftly tried to make the conversation end without being too obvious. If either of them caught on to the waver Orange's voice had for a moment, it was drowned out by their relief that they could go back to cooking in peace. Orange briskly paced through the halls, up the stairs, and into the present moment.
They can feel the sweat roll down the back of their neck as they shuffle in their seat, the flimsy MIRA assigned mattress creaking under their weight. Their thumb delicately rolls over the faded sticker on the handle - one in the form of a Brown heart, contrasting the yellow star that's on Brown's own cutter.
Orange swears that there's a slight moist feeling on the surface of the handle. They know that both Yellow and Brown like to grip their tools tightly when stressed or angry. Is the moistness sweat, then? Bringing it up to the bottom of their visor and taking a whiff doesn't tell them anything, the overpowering stench of fresh cooking drowning anything else out, but the thought still makes them shudder.
The itching heat under their skin is growing too rapidly for them to handle like this anymore. Their hands claw to get their coat off of them, but pause once they reach the strap of their pack.
…With a choked gulp, they click the pack off. Their flower unfurls from their back, stamen tickling against the bed sheets. Having already worked themself up, they can feel the slit on their crotch open up, the tip of their penis already peeking through.
Shuffling to lay down properly on the bed, their free hand reaching down to coax the rest out. It doesn't take long for their penis and pussy to be finally be out in the open, already wet and quivering.
Pressing the handle of the cutter against their lower lips makes them gasp. God, are they this sensitive already?
With a hesitant push, they worm the handle in, it's thin length having no trouble with the damp and elastic hole. Having to pinch their fingers around the cutter's guard just underneath the circular bit was somewhat awkward in Orange's grasp, but they'd rather put up with that then give up any inch of the artificial heaven inside of them right now.
Wriggling it around inside of them creates some gentle shlick noises, quickly overpowered by their own squeaky whimper. Their hips buck as they press the tip of the handle against one particularly sensitive spot inside of them, visor shutting tight.
God, they must look so pathetic right now. What would Yellow and Brown think if they saw them like this?
The thought just makes them clench around the handle tighter.
They could almost imagine it - Yellow laughing at them, calling them out for being such a dirty thieving whore. Brown standing silently by their size, their gaze stabbing straight through Orange, already knowing what they want.
They writhe around on the bed, pussy clenching harder and harder. Would they take them right then and there? Both of them grabbing, groping, manhandling Orange around like a toy. Yellow would take them from the front, relishing in every little squeal and change in expression that Orange would make while they bounce them on their lap like they weigh nothing at all. Brown, on the other hand, would take them from behind, grip firm but gentle. They wouldn't even thrust in them, just grind as they press against Orange's back, deep groans rumbling against them.
Orange frantically shuffles around on the bed as their breath and pace picks up, turning around to flop over on their front. Their other hand reaches down and presses against their asshole, but doesn't dip in. Their fingers press and tease around the area, leaving them whimpering. They almost didn't notice their own hips bucking and rutting their penis against the sheets, but the pleasure sends stars dancing across their visor.
Fuck, what Orange wouldn't give to be their perfect little toy. They could take turns pounding them in the freezer while the other worked the kitchen, the rest of the crew unaware of their fellow coworker whoring themself out like that. Hell, they could even imagine the two of them just simply watching Orange fuck themself silly like this, only caring for a good show. They could use whatever and be whatever they want. They could shove even more into their needy, begging pussy for them!
Orange only has their pillow to muffle their wanton moan at the thought of having an entire rolling pin shoved inside of them as they still beg to cum. Their whole body is shaking, rutting slowly growing irregular.
Shit, would they even hide how much of a whore Orange is from the rest of the crew? Would they be mortifyingly upfront about it, willing to take them where everybody else could see?
A shiver shoots itself through Orange - maybe Yellow and Brown could even be fine with sharing. Imagine, the ditzy little slut of an HR manager getting passed around, free to use at any time of day. If Orange's throat wasn't too busy pushing out their moans right now, they almost would've chuckled at the thought. That'd certainly be one way to keep crew morale up! Giving them a nice, easy hole to fill at a moment's notice.
Orange groans loudly, face burying into their pillow even further as their thoughts go back to just Yellow and Brown. They can't help but have the perverted idea of getting pollinated by the both of them. To be so thoroughly claimed by the two of them, totally dependant on them as they carry their sprouts - their moans go an octave higher.
They want to be taken, they want to be used, they want to be pollinated, and maybe they want to be held by both of them and told that they're pretty and told that they're doing good and maybe probably possibly joining their union doesn't sound so bad and- AND-
"HAAAHHHH- Y-YELLOW! BROWN! I-I CAN'T-" With one last rut of their hips and push of their hands, they finally come with a scream into their pillow.
The whole room falls silent right after, the only noise being Orange's labored breathing. They lay still there in their sweat, slick, and cum for several minutes, unable to form a coherent thought. Eventually though, the grossness of their current state finally gets to them, flipping over on their bed. The light overhead hurts their visor.
Delicately, they pull the pizza cutter out from their pussy, a long trail of slick still staying on, even as they hold it high up in the air.
'God,' Orange pauses to think to themself, 'I'm so fucking pathetic.' They can feel the beginning of tears form in the corner of their visor. What the hell was wrong with them? To go through all of THIS, just to fantasize about a couple of people that hate you more than anything? It's pitiful to say, but Orange suddenly finds the thought of curling up into a ball right then and there to cry themself to sleep very appealing.
…But Brown and Yellow might be done with dinner already. Everybody else might notice their disappearance, especially since Yellow's bound to make a stink about their favorite cutter going missing.
They groan as they force themself off of the bed and back on their feet. Life keeps moving, the Skeld keeps flying, and there's still dinner to be had, no matter how shameful their masturbation habits may be. Though, they probably should take the time to clean themself up a bit first, judging by their crumpled shirt, slightly dipped in their own cum. Oh, and clean up the pizza cutter too, definitely. And the sheets…
It's been two days since Orange's little break from rationality. The good news is that they've finally worked up the nerve to get over the deep pit of shame, self-pity, and slight arousal nestled in their stomach to finally look at Yellow and Brown in the visors again.
The bad news is that means that they're now liable to bear witness to the current clownery playing right in front of them.
"I KNOW IT WAS YOU THAT SNUCK THOSE TINY LITTLE DEVILISH SPIRITS IN MY FOOD, YOU GOD DAMN OVEN WITCHES!" Lime, who was halfway through sticking their whole body through the window into the kitchen, was throwing a noisy fit. Orange could see Yellow's face scrunch up in annoyance and disgust while Brown shakes their head in disapproval right behind them.
"Listen here, you little overripe bean of a kook!" Yellow's offense seeps into their every word, "We didn't mess up ANY bit of your dang food! Our stuff is grade-A cooking! Call our food the thing of the devil again, and I'll bash you over the head with my pin so hard that you'll be seeing the bastard yourself!"
A few other members of the crew were standing around, watching the exchange happen. Green was the closest to Orange, body tense from all the yelling overwhelming their senses. "Golly, for a guy so small, Lime can make some really big noises!"
Further behind them, Black scoffs. "Lime's voice isn't anything special. I've done years of every kind of heavy metal I can think of. If this is loud to you, then my screaming is bound to send you to the hospital." The regular annoyed deadpan of their voice gives way to a touch of pride at their own screaming capabilities. Orange swears that they could hear Black mutter 'pussy' when Green squirms in discomfort at the invitation to lose their hearing. "And besides, Lime's just raving on about nothing again. It's not like we have to sit here and listen to it."
Cyan's sweet voice pipes up next. "Oh, but Lime's stresses sound so real! Maybe there is a loose spirit somewhere in their system! It definitely couldn't have been from Brown and Yellow, though - maybe there's something misaligned in their vibes today that let the spirit in?"
Lime, apparently having listened in on the conversation the entire time, pipes back up. "I'll tell ya what's misaligned! IT'S THESE TWO DAMN DEVIL COOKS! THEY POISONED ME, I SAY!"
Brown grumbles, voice deep. "There is nothing wrong in our cooking."
Yellow picks up the conversation next. "Yeah! Plus, if there was something wrong, wouldn't everybody else be feeling it, too? We eat all our meals together!"
"HAH! Are you kidding? My body is a temple - pure! Everybody else's souls are so corrupted that they wouldn't even recognize a damn poltergeist if it came up and ripped off their faces!" Lime's expression suddenly shifts, turning to the peanut gallery watching them as they remember that they're still there. "Uh, no offense."
"Well, if having an inherently corruptible soul would help me get noticed by MIRA's payroll, I'll happily add that shining quality onto my resume!"
"That's alright! My spirit needs to keep fluctuating in order to let the vibes all around me flow like water. Such is the duty of an empath!"
"You telling me that I got a bit of Satan in my soul? Rad."
"That is absolutely NOT 'rad!'" Orange finally speaks up for the first time during this whole debacle. "Souls filled with anything other than MIRA approved guidelines can and will be docked from your pay!"
They ignore the grumbles from the crewmates behind them as they march right up to Lime, grabbing them by the scruff of their overalls.
"What the- HEY, WATCH IT YOU CORPORATE CADAVER!" Lime thrashes about in their grasp, but Orange only holds on long enough to pull them out from the kitchen window.
"Lime, according to MIRA's HR guidelines, section 48, subsection B, subsubsection x², falsely accusing your fellow Crewmates of poisoning your food with devil worship is a major violation! I'm afraid that I'll have to make a report on this." Orange gestures to the cafeteria exit leading towards admin. "Come along, now."
"HELL NO! I'm not signing ANY of your evil little contracts!"
Orange sighs, already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "You have to, it's company policy!"
Lime continues growling and seething for a moment before suddenly pausing. Their expression gradually shifts from one of panic and anger to… scheming? Whatever it is, it's giving Orange a twisting feeling in their gut.
"Oh yeah, you little corporate lapdog? Company policy's THAT important to ya?"
Orange sputters, not knowing where this is going. "Yes, of course!"
"I know alllll kinds of things, you know." Lime's voice is hushed now, forcing Orange to strain just to hear them. "I know about Cyan's dream stealing book! Purple's little friend in security!"
Lime's voice drops into nothing more than a whisper - one that only Orange could hear.
"Your fun-time with our cooks' precious little tools."
If Orange's heart could plummet any further in that moment, it would've shot straight through the bottom of the Skeld itself.
How? HOW??? Orange was the only one in the second floor at the time, the made sure of it! Did Lime come up there while they were busy? No, Lime refuses to go up there at all, calling it 'the mass grave of decorated bear traps.' Was it the bed sheets? Was Lime the one who handled laundry duty this time? Was it the vents? But the vents in each of the rooms' vents are half the size of the normal ones! There's no way Lime could've fit through there, squish bone syndrome or not! Or could they? What if their moaning still traveled through the vents and they heard? OH GOD, WHAT IF HALF THE SHIP HEARD THEM BEING A TOTAL WHORE UPSTAIRS???
"So? What'll it be, pal?"
Orange squeezes their hands together so tightly that they feel a bit of burning pain at the base of their fingers. "You know, I just remembered!" The cheer in their voice sounds so audibly fake, but it's taking everything not to break down into hysterical breathing in front of everybody. "There's some… exception! Or something! So I can't make you sign anything for this incident!!!" Orange can suddenly feel the weight of 5 separate visors all staring at them in annoyance and confusion. "B-but, uh, you'll still have to stop, though."
Lime seems satisfied enough with that answer, a hint of smugness touching their words. "Bah, fine! I'll catch these little fire devils some day, though!" They glare back at Yellow and Brown before slinking off to the nearest vent.
Orange couldn't even sigh in relief before the next problem popped up. "What the heck, Orange!?" Yellow's voice rips straight through them. "You give me and Brown a whole burning for taking a few minutes off every other day, but you let the dang town yeller get off scott free with all of THAT?"
Both Brown and Yellow's scowls are clear as day - Brown just simply looks frustrated and disappointed, but Yellow looks like they're ready to jump the counter and start choking them out. Orange tries and fails to ignore the prickle of heat right under their collar at the thought.
"Well, uhm, uh, y-you see…" Orange flounders, desperately hoping that their brain can give them a good excuse to bail out of this mess. They quickly give up. "O-oh what's that? I think Red's calling for me right now!"
Green perks up from further back. "Really? I can't hear anything! Well, except for your voice, obviously. Are you sweating, by the way?"
Orange tries to bulldoze past any stares and questions they're getting right now. "WHAT'S THAT RED? YOU NEED ME FOR SOMETHING IN NAVIGATION? I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!"
They don't stick around long enough to hear yet another bizarre question or quirky quip. They scamper through the doors as quickly as their legs could take them, clearing the whole cafeteria in record time. 'Ugh…' Orange thinks to themself as they turn past the nearest bend, finally free from the stares of their crew, 'What the hell is wrong with me?'
(And, a couple weeks later, when Orange overhears some decidedly unprofessional noises coming from the locked doors of Medbay, they make sure to check which voices are involved first. As undeniably enraged they are at Lime right now, snitching on them is not worth the corporate pyrrhic victory.)