#dr ock

The cobblestone is damp and uncomfortable while you’re flat on your back, but it’s not like you can move when there’s two titanium tentacles latched onto your arms, pressing you into the ground. You pray that the rush of your heartbeat isn’t audible, pray that the man in front of you can’t sense the maelstrom of heat in your core— you get a feeling that your efforts in resisting him will be futile when Spider-Man isn’t around, though.

“Child,” Otto sighs from above you, pinching the bridge of his nose as though to ward off a headache. “How long did you think you could hide from me?”

“You’ve gone insane,” you spit back for whatever it’s worth, attempting to writhe.

The tentacles are locked around your legs in seconds, forcing you to remain rigid, and you let out a strained, broken noise.

“Please!” you gasp, reduced to begging. “I - I have a family, I have friends, you know I have a whole life in front of me, please, it doesn’t have to end this way-“

Otto laughs almost incredulously, tilting his head to survey you over his circular glasses. “What doesn’t have to end this way, my darling? You think I’m going to kill you?”

The tears come all too easily— thank God you’re a good actress.

“Like you killed all those people at the hospital!”

Otto tuts, and for a second you think the arms are going to loosen, but they only get tighter.

He hasn’t taken pity on you.

You can’t help but moan weakly as the pressure on your clit gets unbearable, but nothing’s stimulating it.

Well, at least you’re believing nothing’s stimulating it.

“Oh, look what we have here,” he teases, titanium tentacles spreading your legs apart, making the wet patch on your leggings completely vulnerable. “You’re not scared of me at all, aren’t you?”

You’re shaking now, just not out of desperation. “Rot in hell.”

The tentacles lift you upright at that, and you shriek as you’re slammed against the alleyway wall. Your perception spins, and the next thing you know, your leggings are yanked down to your knees, and your underwear with it.

“My, what a sweet, dripping cunt,” Otto breathes, his proximity to your electrified clit making you squirm.

You want this, wanted this ever since you’d stepped into his first lecture, but of course you can’t show it.

Fortunately for you, you don’t need to tell him what to do: his tongue is already pushing on your soaked entrance, and everything in you unclenches.

You gasp out brokenly, blissfully no longer needing Spider-Man to save you, and let out a curse. You don’t quite get the time to adjust to the absurdity of him eating you out, but fuck, nothing else matters besides his tongue delving in and out of your drenched folds.

“Fuck,” you hiss, instinctively reaching forward and pressing Otto’s mouth further onto your pussy, “Fuck…”

Robotic tentacles jump to your arms and you release his hair, letting your arms get pinned over your head as he sucks on your clit.

One particularly deep prod from his tongue has your walls clamping down, and a loud moan escapes your throat— you’re fucking coming.

Exploding would probably be the better word to describe it, and even then it’s not enough. It completely blindsides you and you’re sure it blindsides Otto too as slick squirts out from your pussy, and had it not been for the tentacles forcing you upright, you would’ve keeled over and collapsed. It’s nuclear, your body is trembling and you can’t even feel your legs, then Otto’s saying something, probably taunting you, but the heartbeat in your ears is too fast, too loud…

You’re brought back to earth when three fingers breach your soaking wet pussy and push: you writhe against the titanium hold and curse Otto’s name.

“You dirty fucking girl,” Otto growls as you clench around him, “Who has you undone like this? Who?”

“You,” you grit out, clenching your eyes closed.

“Louder.”

“You!” you yell as a tentacle closes around your throat. Not offensively— you’re so turned on it hurts.

Otto tuts again, then curves the fingers inside of you, and had it not been for your semi-public position and the tentacle on your throat, you would’ve screamed.

He works you until you’re coming in broken spurts, and without even thinking you raise your unbound leg and hook it over his shoulder, pulling yourself onto his face. You’re mumbling something incoherent now.

Beneath you, Otto groans in a way that you know means he likes it, and you laugh in spite of yourself.

Fuck, everything about this is electrifying.

He’s gripping your thighs in his hands, eating you out like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and you’re spurring him on with spits and groans and curses, your vision half-blurred out with whiteness. Your mind is in a place somewhere far, far away from New York City and impossible to retrieve— not like you want to retrieve it any time soon.

His tongue delves in and out of you, stretching and tightening you fantastically with every tease of your entrance, and you can feel something in you unravelling as you build up to the precipice— your sanity, perhaps. Something in you knows that you’ll never be the same after this.

“My darling,” Otto pants out from between your legs, “You - my God, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You whine high in your throat as a titanium tentacle loosens around your neck. “Make me fuckin’ come, Doc.”

It doesn’t matter that more than enough arousal is already dripping down your thighs, Otto is happy to oblige, and the rush that follows feels like your nerves are on fucking fire.

Your thoughts are drifting in and out of coherency by the time Otto’s standing up.

“I didn’t kill you,” he says cryptically, tilting his head to the side— he somehow kept his sunglasses on while his tongue was wreaking havoc on your pussy— and the remaining tentacles withdraw from your trembling, spent body.