#doc otto

The skies were crying, each drop of water splattering itself against the large windows of the decrepit building you carefully walked into. The paint on the brick walls were rotting off, white decayed into a tan and lightning booming in the sky highlighted every crevice the brick exposed. Lights from passing cars below you shined in the window. You were in the most comfortable clothes you owned but that left you exposed to the chill hanging in the air. Between the rain and the empty building around you, you couldn’t help but wander over to the laboratory, through the dark and arching hallways, under the torn curtains that separated the lab from the rest of your makeshift home. 

“Otto, I’m coming in.” you announced, making sure that you were clear just in case any of his experiments were unstable and dangerous for you to be around. There was no response so you walked in to find him sitting in a chair by his desk, his shirt was taken off to make it easier for him to examine the tendril connected to his being. He was so focused, you didn’t want to interrupt whatever was happening in his head. 

Instead, you made yourself a cup of coffee from the pot near his desk, and walked over to the pile of pillows in the corner to sit near him. You grabbed a blanket and sat leaning against the large window occupying the entire wall. It was hard not to steal glances towards Octavius. Him just sitting could turn heads, but it’s a different kind of attention than what he gets when he walks the streets. Not one of secrecy or alarm, but of adoration for his brilliance and beauty.

You snickered to yourself quietly, if Otto ever heard you call him beautiful you think he would scowl so hard he’d look like a pug. He often sports a glare but in this moment, where he feels alone with his thoughts, his face is calm and neutral, the antithesis of his thoughts, surely. He was always thinking, always working towards his next course of action. In the dim room, you admired the robotic arm in his hands. 

Your eyes trailed up to his back, where scars litter his expanse of skin and lead to the other three robotic arms that fused into his spine. How painful was it to have been fused with metal, both physically and mentally? He never really talked about it. You couldn’t do anything but accept that, having your fair share of sore spots. 

You looked back out of the window for a second only to look at the rain falling. Then you looked at Otto’s face, admiring the way the only lamp in the room reflected off his glasses. His short hair barely covered his forehead. Just behind his glasses, you could see his crows feet that got accentuated anytime he smiled and anytime he sneered. The downward curve of his sharp nose only accentuated his puppy dog eyes. Anytime you looked in his eyes, in his sweet, sad brown eyes, he could ask for anything and you’d give it to him undoubtedly. 

“How long are you planning on staring at me?” Otto rasped out. 

“However long you’ll let me,” you purred, “I can’t help it. You’re just so interesting.” You smiled at him, placing your elbow on your knee to get a better look at him. He scoffed at your comment causing your smile to widen. You loved to tease and he knew this well enough to be used to it. 

“What? You don’t want me to?” you pouted, playfully of course but you pulled a convincing act because as soon as Otto looked at you his face softened. A sly grin replaced your pout and he scowled at you. 

“You are trouble. What do you want? Attention?” Otto turned to you, sporting a smirk of his own.

“I’ll take it if you’re willing to give it. ” At that he stood, stretching out his arms giving you a perfect view of his chest and stomach. He walked over to you, and you didn’t miss the slight bounce in his chest. Your breath hitched when he squatted in front of you resting his hand on his knee and the other on your chin forcing you to look up at him from your lounging position. 

“You’ll take it? Are you so sure you can handle what I’m about to do to you?” Otto smirked when he felt you gulp. You were too nervous to look anywhere but his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed covering them in a shadow of danger as they pierced into your vision.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes, please.” Your eyebrow quipped hoping it’d be enough to ask nicely. From the way his grip on your chin shifted to your jaw, you figured he was satisfied with your answer. He lifted you from your cozy spot. As soon as you got to your feet, your back was forcefully pressed against the glass drawing a gasp from you. It was so cold and a little damp with condensation. 

He lifted your thighs with his metal tendril to wrap your legs around his waist. His skin was the only warmth you could feel besides the heat growing in your groin. He rubbed against you, melting away any chill you felt. 

“You’re already begging?” Otto chuckled, gripping your jaw enough to pucker your lips. “Why don’t we put that mouth to good use? They've been wanting to fill you since you walked in.” His tentacles curl up your back, dragging their way under your sweatshirt. You could feel the chilling ridges that allow their sophisticated movement. In a blink, your clothes were ripped off. Their torn shreds falling off of you exposing yourself to Otto. Shivers spread from your spine into your ribs at the feeling of the window against your bare skin. 

The tentacles, now entangled in your limbs forcing you open for Otto’s piercing gaze, gently caress the side of your cheek, almost pleading to feel you. Slowly you opened your mouth, your tongue felt dry in the open air. Slinking towards your mouth, the tendril slowly rubbed against your lips only to enter your mouth suddenly. 

You gasped in surprise, choking slightly on the limb now encompassed in your mouth. Otto released a cruel chuckle at your slight asphyxiation. He allowed you a breath of air before entering your mouth once again. The thick metal tendrils slithered down your throat making you gag over the textured hinges. 

“You look so beautiful like this. So pathetic. So perfect. ” he smirked down at you. His hand caressed your sides gently, totally opposing the power behind the tentacle’s thrusts. You whimpered, swallowing spit and air any chance you could get. Saliva still dripped down your chin at his movement, it fell against your chest and grazed Otto’s erect cock that was already weeping precum. You couldn't tell when he took his cock out. All you could focus on was trying to breathe, and he took full advantage of that. 

He had made himself busy with sucking at your neck. He sucked hickies down your chest and started groping at your asscheeks, spreading them apart and squeezing them with his sturdy, large hands. He moved from your ass to your sex, playing with it harshly, matching the thrusts in your throat. He stroked you, forcing you to moan against his metal appendage. 

Your moans didn't escape him, though they were muffled. Your teeth were lightly scratching against his tentacle making him shiver. Otto could feel the way your throat tightened when you tried to breath and how ragged your breaths were. He could practically feel the way your heart pounded in your chest, the anticipation of him filling your hole being too much for you. He slowed down significantly, wanting your attention on him.

"What do you want?" he groaned in your ear nipping at the shell. "You want me to fuck you? Come on Darling, use your words." You couldn't speak even if you wanted to so you did the next best thing, you sobbed around him. Any semblance of words were muffled and tears were falling down your cheeks. Your face felt hot, your tongue was numb, and all you wanted was Otto to stroke you faster or to just start fucking you. 

It wasn't enough for him. He needed to hear you. He wanted to feel your puffy lips on his skin, not the vague tingling feeling of metal warming. He finally pulled his tendril out of your mouth allowing you to take your first full breath of air in a while. You gasped, your lungs burning and face hot. Your throat was scratchy and dry but your face was a harsh contrast, being soaked with snot and tears and drool. Yet when Otto looked down at you, you didn't feel judged, you felt wanted. He wanted you, needed you. 

When you could finally breathe without wheezing you gasped out, "Please, Otto. Please, I need you. Need you inside me." You wanted to hold him, to be released from his tendrils that ached against your joints and rubbed your skin raw. The hinges must have made a red, angry imprint on your arms already. He chuckled at your desperation, knowing full and well he felt the same. 

His thick cock rubbed against your hole, precum lubing your already dripping entrance. You could feel the curve of his tip split you open. He was so warm, his slick cock entered you slowly, almost painfully so. After being mouth fucked so hard your jaw grew numb, you almost came from him entering you all the way. You felt so stretched out, not full but contently stuffed. You whined at him to start moving, to start fucking you as hard as he had been before, you wanted him to be rough with you. You wanted him to manhandle you, to grab you and throw you around like a doll. He was already holding you in place, he might as well use this to his advantage. 

But no. Otto wanted to take his time with you. He would wait until you were begging for him, not that you weren’t already. He wanted you to need him so badly you cried, just so that he can wipe away those tears and fuck you until you bruise. He would of course take care of you after, and watch your pathetic form shake and shatter. 

He started a grinding pace, accentuating how much you constricted around him. You sobbed, wanting to hold onto him, hold onto anything, but he was so far away and you were no match for the strength of his tendrils. The only warmth you could feel from him was his dick grinding against your gummy walls practically teasing you. That was all you could focus on besides the cold pinching grip on your arms and thighs, curling around your legs and up your neck. 

Your throat was still burning and with every slow thrust you could feel the tentacle pressure on the column of your neck, pulsing on it over and over again. It wanted back inside you, it wanted to feel your warmth again and you could tell that Otto was holding back. His hands were shaking as they gripped your jaw gently. 

He kissed you, feverishly, and though his touch never harshened, his grip pressed into you. His chest pressed against your chest, his pace increased and he pulled his hips back and thrusted into you. You cried into the kiss. Sobs wracked your chest. You felt electrified to finally get the closeness you wanted, needed, craved. His taste was addicting, though you mainly tasted leftover metal from the titanium-steel tentacles, there was a hint of spearmint and myrrh. You tried to claw your way closer to him, digging into your own hands and pressing your chest impossibly closer. He groaned into your mouth as you clenched around him, pulling him in deeper. 

“Patience,” he chided, “tell me what you want.” You whimpered and writhed in his grasp, fighting to touch him. He tsked at you, clicking his tongue while looking down his nose at you. His thrusting stopped all together, making you cry harder.

“I won’t move until you tell me what you want.” Otto scolded. 

“Please, I need you. Go faster, please!” Your voice was still hoarse but didn’t hurt as much as before. He chuckled at you, his wolfish grin sending shivers down your spine.

“I know you can do better than that. Go on, Precious.” he was almost whispering in your ear, his breath hitting your ear, cascading warmth down your neck. Your brows furrowed into a pout, this was frustrating. You could barely talk right now, you just wanted him to make you feel good. 

“Please, Otto. I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me so hard I bruise, please fuck me! ” Your voice got higher in desperation as you wiggled in his grasp. Otto nodded, satisfied by your submission.

“That’s more like it.” He growled, lifting you up with the tentacles and adjusting you so that your face and chest was pressed against the glass. Your breath fogged up the chilling glass near your face. You could only see the blurring city lights as he started fucking your ass at an unrelenting pace. You whined and gasped when your cheek pressed against the glass. 

His tendril tightened against your throat, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The glass around your mouth fogged rhythmically. Your lungs burned. Your face was so soaked you almost slid every time you were pressed against the window. 

A haze glossed over your eyes. As much as you would like to, you couldn't focus your vision on anything. Were people able to see you, able to see your chest pressed against the glass and the way your arms contorted behind your back. Or was your form hidden behind the fog of your lustful torture. 

The burn of Otto's dick entering you over and over was cooked down by the frosted window and the freezing metal around you. Your body shook. Your voice was raspy. You couldn't think. You couldn't speak. All you knew was the feeling of Otto Octavius and his passion for you and how much he can stretch you out.

You're sex was coated in release from him playing with and fucking you. If he kept up you were sure to black out from pleasure. You only barely registered the tendril moving from your throat to your cheek. 

With your face pressed open against the glass, then tendril snaked its way into your mouth again releasing a hiss of pleasure from Otto. With your ass and mouth filled to the brim with Otto, it was natural that your sex leaked more, practically dripping onto the floor. He speared through you like a skewer through a hunk of meat. 

At some point there was little rhythm to his thrusts but from how numb your limbs were getting in the tendrils grasp that was all you could feel. You came again, constricting around Otto and his tentacle. His groans got closer together, his thrusts became sloppy and the tendril in your mouth thrusted itself so deep you were sure it could touch his dick. 

You couldn't breathe but you could feel Otto's dick twitch in you and the spread of warmth through your ass. The tendril stopped moving causing you to gag over the girth of it. He didn't pull out and didn't move his tendril. You were stuck praying for air but not being able to pull together a coherent thought if you wanted to. 

As soon as you started seeing black spots in your vision he finally pulled out of you. He looked down at you, adjusting you to face him gently. His smirk was cruel but you gained however much you could of strength to reach out for him. His hand brushed away your sweat damp hair and he kissed your forehead. His tendrils set you back down on the pile of pillows you were sitting on before. 

"Otto—," he heard your voice close behind him. You sounded shaky. Uncertain. Maybe even scared?

Immediately concerned, Otto turned around to you, his actuators were frantic, the voices grew to be so loud in his head when they saw how pale you looked.

"Y/N? Honey, what's wrong?" Otto asked, reaching out to you when he saw you sway a little, unable to keep your balance; even though you were just standing upright.

The next thing he knew, your eyes fell shut and you were dead weight in his arms.

Otto's actuators wrapped around you to help him carry you over to the couch that was a mere few feet away. As you lay there, Otto looked you over, trying so hard to not let the panic settle in. He wouldn't be much help for you that way.

As his eyes swept over you, he noted how sweaty you were, not entirely unusual for you on such a warm day as this, but concerning to him nonetheless. He also realised that your chest was completely flat. The two of you had agreed that you would wear your chest binder less; especially on hot days. He understood that today must have been more dysphoric than usual for you again, but he wished you had said something to him about it, rather than keeping it to yourself and suffering alone.

Cautiously, he took your shirt into his hands and rolled the hem up above your chest. Otto inhaled sharply when he saw bruises start just below the edge of your chest binder. One that you usually didn't wear anymore either because it had gotten too small.

"Oh, Y/N," he sighed sadly, "Why didn't you talk to me?"

Of course he should be getting you to a hospital, let them check you out and help you properly, better than he possibly could. The problem with that was the fact that he was still a wanted man, considering the crimes he had committed not too long ago. He couldn't just walk into a hospital with your passed out form in his arms.

For a couple of minutes, he thought long and hard about all the doctors he knew and if at least one of them was the kind of doctor he needed. There had to have been someone.

But it was so hard for him to think at all when his actuators were so frantic. The voices in his head were overlapping. All of them were asking if you were okay, why you wouldn't wake up, what was wrong with you, and if you were dead.

"Hey, now, it's okay," he cut through that last thought, "Y/N's going to be fine, I promise," he told them, trying his best to sound certain of his promise and to convince himself that he was. Because right now, he actually wasn't too sure about it either.

For a moment it was eerily quiet.

Then, his top right actuator was the first to move and gently prod you, poking your cheek, your stomach and thigh, trying to get a reaction from you.

The other ones followed their brother suit, one by one, until all of them were poking you at the same time in different spots, almost petting you.

They had always been so fond of you, rightfully so, and this whole situation really put that into perspective for him. He knew that the actuators saw him as their father, but that they saw you the exact same way had never been this clear to him as it was now. If only the circumstances for that realisation had been different.

Gently, Otto cupped your cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb over your skin there, attempting to sort through the voices in his head and actually think of a solution.

Part of him was certain that the first step he should take was to relieve you of your chest binder, but he couldn't make himself take it off of you when you weren't even conscious. It was wrong, wasn't it? Yes, he was your partner and he'd seen your chest plenty of times because on some days you felt okay enough to let him see it; but that was only ever because you wanted it, when you were fully conscious and able to consent. It had never been like this and he felt so bad for even thinking about helping you that way. Wouldn't he just make things worse for you for when you woke up?

As his own anxiety settled in, once he found that he couldn't come up with a suitable solution, his actuators began panicking again. The voices became too loud, too overwhelming, too negative. What was he supposed to do?

"I can't lose you, too," Otto confessed his deepest fear in a broken whisper.

Steeling himself with a couple of deep breaths, he carefully took your shirt into his hands and pulled it off of you, folded it up and put it aside. Perhaps it really was the only way. But what if it wasn't? What if there were other things he could do? What if he could wake you up for just long enough to see what you'd say?

He's never been this uncertain about anything in his life. As a nuclear physicist he couldn't afford to be unsure. And yet here he was, driving himself crazy with all the questions that were running circles in his mind. But were those only his questions? He couldn't tell the voices apart anymore.

Water.

Perhaps that would be a better start for now. He would need a bottle of water. You were so sweaty and felt burning to his touch. If you needed anything it wasn't just a doctor, but also hydration. He could do that.

He willed himself to make his actuators listen to him for a split second and ask them to bring him a bottle of water. They basically all scrambled to fulfil the task, stretching out through the house and grabbing a bottle each, handing them to Otto a minute later. After that, they immediately went back to petting you like they had been doing the entire time.

"Y/N?" Otto tried calling for you again, continuing to stroke your cheek with his thumb as he held a water bottle in his free hand. "Sweetheart?"

Nothing.

Sighing, Otto took his hand off of your cheek and lowered it to rest just beneath the hem of your chest binder.

Before he could actually get a grip on the fabric, after putting the bottle down, Otto noticed how much more frantic his actuators suddenly were. For a split second, Otto's heart stopped as he thought they had detected something even worse happening with you. But when he looked up, he saw your eyelids fluttering slightly.

"Y/N! Can you hear me, darling?" Otto took hold of your hand, feeling your fingers twitch against his skin as you groaned quietly.

"Ow," you whispered, groaning again.

"Oh, my dear boy, I was- Is it okay if I take it off? Your binder, I mean," Otto asked, stumbling over his own words with how hurried he was, unknowing whether or not you could even hear him, let alone stay awake long enough to answer.

Weakly, you nodded, letting out a very quiet "yeah".

Relieved, Otto kissed the back of your hand that he was holding and let go of it. He saw the hesitation you fought with before you answered, and he was so proud of you for pushing through it.

His actuators helped you sit up and supported you, while he gingerly took off your binder, revealing more and more bruises as he went. Your skin was darkened purple and blue everywhere your binder had put more pressure on it. His heart hurt for you. He wished you had never had to go through this pain.

As soon as the binder was off, Otto grabbed your shirt and put it back on you, knowing you wouldn't want to be shirtless for too long. After that, the actuators let you lie back down gently, petting you again.

"Are you still with me, my dear boy?" Otto inquired worriedly, seeing your eyes closed again.

The only response he got was an affirmative sound in the back of your throat.

"I have some water here. I thought you should drink some, okay? I'll call someone I know when you're done," he explained softly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

Otto took one of the bottles into his hands, unscrewed it, and held it with his right hand as he used his left to support your head to levitate it a little. Then he put the bottle against your lips, slowly letting you drink from it.

Once the bottle was empty and your eyes stayed open, Otto's actuators calmed down, allowing him to think properly at last. There was one doctor he could call, he remembered, and so he did. Otto was truly lucky, considering all his connections, and so his old colleague was on his way to treat you now.

"You'll be okay, Y/N," he told you gently, kissing your forehead and then lips, "You'll be okay."

"Thank you," you whispered before you were out again.

As worried as Otto may have been, he knew you'd be in good hands and that you'd be fine eventually, which was all that kept him as calm as he was, then.