Kinktober Day 10: Gunplay

for @das-uberchicken

Vasquez owned some Hyperion guns, sure.

He had to remain on brand, after all, and consistent purchases of Hyperion weaponry definitely curried the favor of higher ups when they were looking to hand out juicy projects and promotions. Shotguns were his favorite make—heavy in his hand, with enough kickback to make him feel like he was a real badass, blasting bandit heads away down on Pandora.

But behind the sleek corporate veneer he put on was the core of a far more salt-of-the-earth hobbyist—at least that’s what he said to himself whenever he opened the velvet-lined container where his pristine, vintage Jakobs pistol lay cradled.

He’d bought it from a rare arms dealer after his latest promotion to reward all his hard work and careful planning. He owned several Jakobs guns already but nothing as valuable as the long-barreled pistol that he lifted gingerly to glint up in the amber light of his bedroom. Even with his new salary he’d had to sacrifice a month’s prescription of hair tonic, but every time Vasquez lifts that beautiful, rare gun out from its lacquered box he knows it’s worth a briefly thinning scalp.

“You’ve never seen a gun like this, Rhysie,” he speaks to the man bound to his bed. Vasquez is still in his pants and dress shirt, while Rhys is completely naked and blindfolded with the gold fabric of Vasquez’s tie. The older man smirks at Rhys’ quiet moans as he kisses the bronze tip of the barrel, before straddling Rhys’ hips. He draws the gun up the quivering muscles in the young man’s stomach, dipping the cool tip into Rhys’ belly button until he throws back his head and whines at the stillness. Chuckling, Vasquez moves the gun up Rhys’ chest, pressing the muzzle around one stiff nipple.

“This is going to be the most expensive thing you’ve ever had in your mouth, aside from my dick,” Vasquez snickers at Rhys’ perfect, gasping lips as he trails the gun up to the young man’s chin. Rhys licks it submissively, like a puppy. Vasquez smirks.

The pistol hadn’t been the only thing he’d bought after the promotion.

Kinktober Day 9: Asphyxiation, Frotting

thethespacecoyote:

When the very same type of metallic restraints that had wrapped around his wrists snaked out and curled around his neck, holding him tight against the chair, Rhys was convinced that he was about to die. He choked and sputtered as the cold steel around his throat began to tighten, his wrists jerking against their own restraints in abortive desperation.

“Easy, pumpkin, easy,” Jack’s crackling voice sounded around him, a split second before the A.I.’s acid-blue hologram fluttered into shape in front of him—no, almost inside of him, the man’s thighs clipping through his own as he stood in the middle of the chair Rhys was bound to. The young man let out a choked cough, eyes watering as he looked up at Jack’s smug expression. It glitched with a sleazy smile.

“Aww, don’t you cry now, sweetheart. Here, let daddy relax you a ‘lil bit,” Jack snapped his fingers, and suddenly prickly warmth flooded Rhys’ body, his heart rate rushing with pleasure. Even the pressure around his neck melted into the feelings of arousal, his tighter and harsher breathing only building the tingling stiffness in his crotch.

It took him awhile to notice the A.I. moving thanks to the spots popping in his vision. He was grinding his hips forward—into Rhys’ physical body, and if Rhys was of sounder mind he would have laughed and called Jack dumb because he wasn’t real and couldn’t touch Rhys if he wanted to. And yet the tingling in his hardening cock felt amplified every time Jack rutted forward. It could very well be the drugs, or the restricted breathing, or the power of his own now uninhibited fantasy, but whatever it was it busted down any walls of self-respect he might still have until he was crying out against the rasp of his own throat, soaking his underwear with cum as the clasp around his neck released with the same sudden orgasm.

Kinktober Day 9: Asphyxiation, Frotting

When the very same type of metallic restraints that had wrapped around his wrists snaked out and curled around his neck, holding him tight against the chair, Rhys was convinced that he was about to die. He choked and sputtered as the cold steel around his throat began to tighten, his wrists jerking against their own restraints in abortive desperation.

“Easy, pumpkin, easy,” Jack’s crackling voice sounded around him, a split second before the A.I.’s acid-blue hologram fluttered into shape in front of him—no, almost inside of him, the man’s thighs clipping through his own as he stood in the middle of the chair Rhys was bound to. The young man let out a choked cough, eyes watering as he looked up at Jack’s smug expression. It glitched with a sleazy smile.

“Aww, don’t you cry now, sweetheart. Here, let daddy relax you a ‘lil bit,” Jack snapped his fingers, and suddenly prickly warmth flooded Rhys’ body, his heart rate rushing with pleasure. Even the pressure around his neck melted into the feelings of arousal, his tighter and harsher breathing only building the tingling stiffness in his crotch.

It took him awhile to notice the A.I. moving thanks to the spots popping in his vision. He was grinding his hips forward—into Rhys’ physical body, and if Rhys was of sounder mind he would have laughed and called Jack dumb because he wasn’t real and couldn’t touch Rhys if he wanted to. And yet the tingling in his hardening cock felt amplified every time Jack rutted forward. It could very well be the drugs, or the restricted breathing, or the power of his own now uninhibited fantasy, but whatever it was it busted down any walls of self-respect he might still have until he was crying out against the rasp of his own throat, soaking his underwear with cum as the clasp around his neck released with the same sudden orgasm.

Kinktober Day 8: Latex

Inspired by an AU chat on the Discord!

In retrospect, Rhys should have probably taken his new bodysuit on a test run first. At leas then he wouldn’t be gasping for pained breaths on the fancy, glossy floor of the most dangerous place he could probably be—Handsome Jack’s private complex.

He’d gotten dizzy suddenly during the course of his snooping, the tight latex of his bodysuit constricting unexpectedly around his ribs. He’d winced, trying to push forward and stay quiet until he’d doubled over in pain, unable to take another step further. He’d tried to crawl away or grab for his gun when he heard measure, clicking steps from behind him, but before he could turn around a heavy, booted foot pressed on his lower back.

“Jeez, this is pathetic,” Jack tutted, shaking his head as Rhys wheezed out a breath. “And you were doing so well, too. I mean, my systems were able to detect you the second you entered my building, but still. I was gonna let you get a little bit farther before I brought out the big guns.”

Rhys whined, pained tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he struggled to look over his shoulder. Jack’s heavy boot could probably end him in this state—Rhys felt like if he was stomped or kicked in the ribs he would just collapse like a house of cards. But Jack was being…unusually light in his touch, his boot enough to keep Rhys in place but lacking his full, brutal weight.

“Is it this thing that’s bothering you? Wow, kitten. Maybe you should’ve tested this out beforehand?” Jack laughed, gesturing at Rhys’ tight bodysuit. The spy swallowed uncomfortably, his heart still beating painfully in his chest. Jack shook his head, crouching over the young man’s body.

“This is a pretty lame way to go out. Strangled by your own fashion statement. So I’ll tell you what.”

Rhys shivered at the sleek, metallic sound of a switchblade.

“I’ll help ya out.”

Rhys twitched as Jack pinched some of the tight fabric between his shoulder blades, the tip of his pocket knife poking deftly through it. The young man’s skin quivered as Jack trailed the blade slowly down his spine, the sound of slitting fabric the only thing filling the still air of the complex aside from Rhys’ own panting and Jack’s approving hums.

Rhys could feel more cool air kiss his skin as Jack peeled apart the now slack fabric of his bodysuit, opening him up like a flayed animal as he cut all the way down to Rhys’ hips. The constricting pain in Rhys’ ribs was replaced by a flighty, tight feeling in his belly as Jack dug into the latex again, slicing a long, vertical line along the crack of Rhys’ pert ass.

Rhys moaned, voice still hoarse. He could do little more than lay there and pant, watching Jack from other his shoulder as the super villain slid his thick fingers in between Rhys’ tight cheeks, tip pressing right up against the young man’s hole. Jack probed around a bit, before pulling away his hands and grabbing a slim, black bottle from his pocket.

“You’re already pretty wound up. Don’t wanna break you by going in dry.” The bottle made an unpleasant noise as Jack slicked up his palm, leering down at his helpless prey.

Rhys didn’t want to think about the fact that Jack had lube on him, and what that probably said about his reputation as a spy.

“Jack’s Eggs-periment”

Jack snapped his head around, heartbeat quickening as his hands groped backwards, coming away with a planet-sized amount of concern about the squishy, slick, pulsing mass wiggling right up against his back. And about the meaty, winding things starting to curl around his ankles. Those were definitely worrying.

“H-Hey, Hey! Get—get off!” Jack snarled, swinging out behind him with his fists. He felt them land, thwack-ing agains whatever was grabbing him close, but it didn’t seem to do any good. He looked down to see thick tendrils, blue blue and glowing like the fluid of the tanks before him, already wrapped around his calves up to the knee.

Just as he was trying to kick and get them off, the tentacles around his legs heaved all at once, lifting him clear off the ground and all the way back into the mass behind him.

“Crap—!”

Please forgive the bad title.

Commission for @handsomepeacock to accompany this beautiful picture here! Oviposition/tentacles/xenophilia/dubcon to follow. Set before the events of TPS.

I really enjoyed writing this one 🙂

Jack had a love-hate relationship with R&D.

On the one hand, they made some really cool stuff. There were grenades that scorched the flesh even as they made enemies muscle seize in place, paralyzed and unable to do anything but watch as burns spread all over their bodies. As well as some “masculine enhancement” drugs that Jack definitely didn’t need but thought might be fun to try out, once they were fully outta their trial phase.

However, getting to look at and maybe even play around with prototypes meant having to field an obnoxious handful of eccentric personalities aggravated from being shoved in such close quarters.

He’d been having correspondence with Dr. Grayson but apparently he was taking a sick day due to an intestinal infestation or something, Jack honestly didn’t really want to know, but he figured dealing with that was probably a lot more fun than having to struggle to talk to Dr. Grayson’s’s distracted replacement.

“Hahaha, it’s really such a shame that Dr. Grayson had to get sick on the day you two were supposed to meet, huh? Funny.” Dr. Drymon wiped a hand over his nose, leaving Jack wondering if there was some kind of bug going through the entire damn department. He tried to hold his breath as much as he could, limiting his communication to mostly head-nods and terse sentences as he watched the doctor cough all over his hands.

“Yeah. Hilarious. How about you scurry off and grab me the reports Dr. Grayson left for me? I’m in a hurry to get outta this germ ward.” He snorted angrily as Dr. Drymon wiped his palms on his lab coat, splattered with various shades of who-knows-what.

“W-w-wait here, just one second, I’ll be um…I’ll be right back!” Dr. Drymon pointed at one of the chairs before skittering off down one of the many branching hallways. Jack glared after him, hands on his hips, stealing glances from the hallway to the empty chair, finally plopping down with an exaggerated huff.

Great.

He was gonna be pissed if he had to spend the entire day waiting on his tech, only to come away with whatever disease was making its way through the ranks of these scientists.

Well. While he was here, he might as well have a look around. The brand new thresher enclosure had just been completed, and he’d been itching to see it in its finished, flourishing state.

Jack scooted in the chair, grunting in annoyance when it ground with an unpleasant, metallic scrape and refused to budge. Jack frowned, grabbing the chair by the arms and lifting it up, waddling over close to the glass walls separating the labs from the vast enclosures. He shook his head as he plopped the chair back down on the floor.

Wheeled office chairs. That was going to be his first order of business as soon as he took over this place.

The newly built thresher inclosure was surely a sight to behold. Jack was pretty sure, considering Helios’ size, even as a work-in-progress, they could expand on huge enclosures like this and populate them with hundreds of different engineered creatures. He’d been wrestling with the idea of a robotic army versus one of the more flesh and blood variety, and while he was still leaning towards the former the deadly-looking creatures crawling around beyond the thick glass made a very compelling case.

The stalkers in particular fascinated him. Ever since the enclosure had been completed Jack had made sure to keep lines open between his personal interests and the team’s observations. Most of their preliminary notes had tried to focus on the capabilities of stalker venom, until Jack had geeeently redirected them back towards their cloaking abilities. They already had guns that could spit acid and turn skin into pudding, anyway, and the idea of being able to turn invisible and undetectable tickled his interest a lot more than anything analyzing natural poisons could teach.

But Dr. Drymon was taking way too long to get back to him, and Jack was getting antsy surrounded by all the whirring machinery, beeping lights, and sloshing, dripping specimens. So he slapped his thighs and rocked to his feet, sticking his hands innocently in his jean pockets as he poked about the lab.

The Biological Engineering subsection was always a hoot. The air in the whole place seemed filled with the suspended dust of a hundred vivisected corpses, and there were plenty of dangerous looking specimens pacing about in steel cages or floating, barely twitching, in huge glass cylinders full of amber liquid.

Most of it was stuff that he’d seen on previous visits, give or take a couple new creatures or freshly grown limbs and teeth. But as he continued walking around the perimeter of the lab, something new caught his eye.

In one, slightly isolated corner of the lab was an array of large, cuboidal tanks filled to the brim with a glowing, bright blue liquid. There were four in total, fanning out from the meet of the corner. Three of the tanks were clouded with big, misshapen looking objects with several long appendages trailing off in all directions. Jack tilted his head, feeling interest thrum through his body at the alien glow and mysterious objects inside the tanks. He took a couple of steps closer, reaching out to place his palm up against the glass wall of the tank when a sudden squelch drew his attention downwards.

How he didn’t notice the puddle of bright blue fluid on the floor around the tank was a mystery, but as he lifted his foot he was annoyed to find it was unusually sticky, clinging to the sole of his shoe.

“Ugh—these are new—“ Jack growled, kicking his foot and trying to shake the goo off of his boot. He hopped back on one leg, trying to pull away from the sticky puddle, only for his sole to slip against the slick metallic floor, sending the programmer crashing backwards with a shriek.

He was expecting to crack his skull on the floor and wake up to the stupid, irresponsible face of Dr. Drymon or one of his interns, but instead his back landed with a soft thwack against something solid and meaty and warm.

“What the hell—“

Jack snapped his head around, heartbeat quickening as his hands groped backwards, coming away with a planet-sized amount of concern about the squishy, slick, pulsing mass wiggling right up against his back. And about the meaty, winding things starting to curl around his ankles. Those were definitely worrying.

“H-Hey, Hey! Get—get off!” Jack snarled, swinging out behind him with his fists. He felt them land, thwack-ing agains whatever was grabbing him close, but it didn’t seem to do any good. He looked down to see thick tendrils, blue blue and glowing like the fluid of the tanks before him, already wrapped around his calves up to the knee.

Just as he was trying to kick and get them off, the tentacles around his legs heaved all at once, lifting him clear off the ground and all the way back into the mass behind him.

“Crap—!”

Jack grunted as he was forced to rest against the creature like a chair, the tentacles curling in the air as they lifted his knees all the way up, almost level with his head as his legs were forcibly bent.

He still couldn’t get a good look at the main body of the thing but well, judging by the fact that one out of four of these tanks were empty, and there was goo all over the floor….he could hazard a guess.

Ohhh. These frikkin’ scientists were gunning for a firing. Who the hell didn’t make sure the frikkin’ tops were secured on these god damn tanks?

Jack snapped his eyes down when the appendages adjusted their grip, wrapping around his upper thighs now.There was a tentacle waving around down by his groin, a long, slimy thing topped with a cruel, hooked claw that had Jack trying to close his legs even as they were stiffly held apart.

He squirmed as the claw inched closer, trailing along the fresh denim of his pants. He closed his eyes tight, convinced he was about to get neutered.

Instead, he felt the fabric pop underneath the tip of the stinger, tearing in a wide arch over the crotch of his pants. Jack’s eyes creaked back open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he watched the claw rip a huge hole in his pants, bisecting his fly in the process and leaving his ass and cock bared to the cool, circulated air of the lab.

Jack cringed.

What a day to go commando.

If the thing’s intentions weren’t already clear, there was no way to deny what it wanted to use him for now that it had ripped a hole in his pants and was busy stroking Jack’s newly accessible skin.

“H-Hey! Careful with the merchandise, ‘kay?” Jack jerked as the slippery tip of the tendril crept over his balls and started to curl up his shaft like vines on a pillar. It left a trail of slime like a snail, residue glowing almost as brightly as the appendage itself. It squeezed his shaft, and he shuddered—it felt like a slick, boneless fist clenching around his dick.

And it didn’t feel bad, which kind of made Jack annoyed. He preferred getting jerked off by a sexy lady or attractive guy, or at the very least a humanoid alien. More than just a ball of tentacles, he was saying. He didn’t want to like this, and he stared daggers down at his cock, as if he could will it back to flaccidity.

He was so busy focused on the tendril currently trying to jerk him off that he barely noticed another traveling behind him until it lapped against his cheek. And by the time he did it was too late—even as he pulled away sharply, his affronted yell was stifled as a blunted, ribbed tentacle shoved into his mouth and down his throat.

Jack gagged, breathing harshly through his nose as he tried to get control of his breathing. His throat spasmed and squeezed tightly around the intrusion, as if trying to push it out, but to no avail. It continued its inexorable path down his throat, causing it to bulge out unnaturally. Angry tears watered in the corner of Jack’s eyes at the stretch, his teeth digging into the girth of the glutinous tentacle now filling his mouth.

He could almost feel the tentacle in the area of his sternum when it finally seemed to stop, much to his weak relief—a temporary respite that was torn away when the tentacle suddenly swelled up unimaginably thicker and pushed a torrent of warm, heavy liquid down into his stomach.

He moaned, spine arching at the uncomfortable sensation, like drinking a too-hot cup of coffee and being conscious of its path all the way down. His dick and throat clenched, brain not sure which one to focus on first.

This was all just a confused head-rush of a mess. Jack didn’t really know what exactly this creature was trying to do. It seemed to be. Well. Aroused somehow, despite being a blob of eyes and teeth and tentacles that was probably one of the least sexy things that Jack had had groping him, but all it had really done so far was stroke his dick and pump something thick and heavy down his throat. He figured if it was aroused it would have already presented him with some kind of dick or vagina or something that would either fuck or be fucked by him. But now, it just kept squeezing around his dick—not nearly enough to really jerk him off, even—and swelling and contracting as it pushed more and more viscous liquid down into his stomach.

Which. His stomach was kind of getting a little full. Like what would happen when Jack got a particularly nice paycheck and decided to treat himself to a couple whiskey sours and a full steak dinner at Nyx. If the manager was in a good enough mood to respond to his flirting he could even expect a complimentary dessert.

So…yeah. Whatever was being squirted down his throat was starting to settle heavily in his stomach, making him feel a little bit bloated.

He felt it stir in his belly, almost like it was a living thing itself, or maybe it was just the muscles in his organs contracting around this unwanted volume. Which….was actually starting to feel a little warm and fluttering inside him. Dare he say….good?

No. No. Except….maybe. Because the warmth in his stomach was starting to spread out from his core, leaving a tingling feeling throughout his body that eventually went to his head, making his vision shimmer like he was on some weird drug.

….Huh. He lolled his tongue against the pulsing tentacle in his mouth, feeling how numb it’d become. He could still taste, and in fact it seemed like that sense had sharpened while the rest had dulled. The tentacle tasted thickly sweet, like R&D was bathing these creatures in syrup.

Jack was feeling so fuzzy and floaty that he barely noticed the thicker, stouter appendage swelling up between his legs until its flared head was resting just up against his ass. He jerked in the monster’s pulsing grip, teeth biting instinctively around the tentacle in his mouth as he glanced with wide eyes down towards his groin.

Oooohhhh crap.

Muffled protests barely made it out from his filled mouth as he wiggled violently, fixated on the appendage bubbling slippery, fluorescent blue slime out of a yawning orifice. It was like some kind of freaky plant, like the type that would lure bugs inside and then digest them into goo. And it was making a beeline for his uncomfortably exposed ass.

Jack clenched his cheeks together, even as the warm feeling spread throughout his body urged him to open up. He groaned, furrowing his brow in indecision, but the monster seemed willing to act where he hesitated. Or it didn’t really care what he thought, because it was strong enough to shove right in anyway regardless of how tight Jack was. He quickly learned the hard (heh) way that he better loosen up as the thick appendage pushed inside of him, making him feel like he’d just sat on a shotgun barrel.

Jack groaned unattractively, head thrown back against the pulsating mass behind him as the appendage plunged inside of him. His ass stretched wide around its shaft, insides quivering against the sudden intrusion.

Jack wasn’t so proud and stubborn a man that he’d never played around with his ass before. But a frikkin’ tentacle was a lot different than plugs or strap-ons or his own fingers. Especially a tentacle that felt like a god-damn tree root.

He wriggled weakly, body sluggish with whatever was being pumped down his throat as he made another impotent escape attempt. It was useless, basically, at this point, but his brain was telling him to fear something even if his body wasn’t listening. Stupid body.

He continued in this fugue for some time, until he felt the thick prick in his ass start to swell even larger. He cringed, head jerking down. Jack could barely understand what was happening as he watched the long shaft of the thing bulge out in large beads, like peas in some alien pod. They pulsed and constricted, one such bulge pressing up against the tight ring of his ass, nudging it out inch by inch and oh good frikkin’ lord, what now?

Jack’s teeth dug into the appendage in his mouth as the one in his ass swelled out, muscles in its shaft pushing a big, ovate something through his entrance and into his tract. He tried to protest against the unnatural feeling, but the tentacle stuffed in his throat and occupying his mouth made it impossible for it to come out as anything other than a pathetic whimper.

It was a strange, unpleasant feeling to have something large and round roll up into his already bloated gut, stuffing him even further. Discomfort spread through his entire abdomen as the appendage in his ass pushed the way all the way up until it settled in deep, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He squirmed in place, praying that this was over and done now but…of course not. Why would any garbage deity ever answer the prayers of someone like Jack?

So more of those bulges were a’comin’. They squeezed, one after another, into his tract, rolling and clacking into each other like billiard balls. Frustrated tears gathered in the corners of Jack’s eyes as he glared at the appendage pumping these….things into him. God. Damn. Was it…did it…did these scatterbrained scientists even know how it reproduced? Why the hell would they keep these things around if they could just grab random people trying to mind their own business and put…these…eggs in them…

And yet despite it all he was still aroused. Even the discomfort of the eggs in his stomach did little to flag his erection. It didn’t help that he had a tentacle wrapped around his shape and that the eggs had to roll over his prostate to get into the upper reaches of his system. And with the pleasurable, warm substance being pumped into him, well…it wasn’t hit fault at all that he ended up coming against his shirt. His body trembled, stuck between wanting to go boneless in the aftermath and tensing from the continued assault of the creature. He wanted to close his eyes, but the entire mass vibrated like a massaging chair, refusing to let him rest.

Jack gasped as the tentacle in his mouth unexpectedly went limp and slithered out of his throat. He coughed up a glob of bright blue fluid on his shirt, grimacing as he watched it stain the yellow fabric. Great.

“Hah—what are you puttin’ in me, ah—“ Jack hissed, clenching his teeth. His chin tipped back as an especially large egg tried to wedge itself into his ass, spreading the ring of muscle around his hole wider and thinner. Jack cringed, the flesh on the verge of tearing around the greatest diameter of the egg as it sunk inside of him, pushing his slick insides to their limit. He could feel the large egg shove up into the pit of his stomach, making it bulge awkwardly just below his belly button.

“C-Can I get some more lube here? You’re not—ugh—you didn’t even take me to frikkin’ dinner first, make an honest woman outta me or nothing—ahh—!“ Jack grunted as the ovipositor contracted, blasting his bowels with a harsh slap of fluid before continuing to pump more eggs into him.

His hands jerked against the tentacles holding them, instinctively wanting to press his palms into his belly in a futile attempt to stop the swelling. But it continued, inevitable like the orbit of Elpis, stretching his shirt out as a crescent of tan skin began to appear beneath the straining hem.

He was starting. To look. Pregnant.

What the hell.

“T-These jerks better buy me new clothes—you hear me, cowards!” Jack yelled, his own voice echoing throughout the walls of the lab. He cringed as his stomach pulsed outwards as more eggs were loaded inside of him, his shirt finally giving up and snapping up over the swell of his stomach, leaving it to jut impudently out from under his ribs.

“Oh, what the hell,” Jack snarled as his belly was revealed. It was glowing softly underneath his skin—soft orbs of blue light shining so brightly he could see them. He burped, tasting something both syrupy and metallic.

“This is….so stupid.”

He glared pitifully at his growing stomach, his skin growing more and more lumpy and swollen as more eggs were stuffed into his guts, some even rolling against each other and making an uncomfortable noise that forced Jack’s teeth to grate. The tentacle around his cock stroked him almost apologetically, paying special attention to his oversensitive glans and balls. Little spikes of pleasure prickled through Jack’s spine, though his previous orgasm had left him pretty frikkin’ exhausted. He could definitely go plenty of rounds with a nice human lady who had like, limbs and a face and all. But even the most masculine of men (like himself) couldn’t be expected to endure sex with a mutant tentacle blob.

“Nnngh….bit too lil’….too late there…” Jack groaned as an egg rolled over his prostate, sitting there for an unbearably long amount of time before its sibling pushed it along up into the overtaxed pit of Jack’s stomach. He felt like a steadily filling balloon, arousal mixing with fear as he wondered both how many eggs the creature had left and how many he could take without something inside of him bursting.

Thankfully, the steady push of eggs started to slow down. The tentacle around his cock managed to squeeze one last pitiful dribble of cum out of him as the final eggs slid inside, Jack’s entire body going slack and trembling as the thick ovipositor finally deflated and pulled out of him with a long shlick.

Jack had little energy to seek revenge even as the creature gradually released him, slithering away as it laid him in a pool of rapidly cooling slime and skulked back off towards its tank, sliding its massive bulk inside with less of a solid splash and more of a glorp, like sticking a finger into gelatin. Jack caught a brief glimpse of it as it slipped inside and honestly, almost wished he hadn’t. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyelids, trying to erase the image and the last ten embarrassing minutes from his brain.

But the noises of the eggs inside of him as he shifted refused to let him forget. Sighing, Jack slid his hand down his body, frown deepening as his palms smoothed over the new ample curve of his middle.

His stomach was firm and tight, abs stretched in faint definition over it. He moaned at the fullness, the clutch pressing down against his organs and up against his diaphragm as he tried to sit up, only for the eggs to weigh heavily against his pelvis. He hissed through sticky teeth, hand cupping the underside of his full stomach. He was just starting to try to pull his shirt down over his swollen belly when rapid footsteps approached behind him. The hem popped woefully over his stomach, not that it would hide much of anything from the wide eyed Dr. Drymon at this point.

“Oh, oh no. I-I-I’m sorry sir I,” the scientist stammered, his eyes wide with horror at the side of the half naked, slicked up programmer, “o-one of my residents, she ah, um. She thought to test the trial of the ENGORGE pills on one of our more passive species and just…oh dear, oh dear…”

“Well….” Jack groaned, eyes angry and cheeks bright red as he pressed a palm into his swollen belly. The eggs shifted under the pressure, some of the bulges visibly twitching. “In terms of virility, I think it’s ready for market.”

Kinktober Day 3: Public, Biting, Strength/Muscles

thethespacecoyote:

It smelled like wet leaves, despite the fact that Rhys can’t remember the last time it rained.

He’d been walking out with Jack, going through the long, twilight shadows in the local park. They had passed by the occasional couple or young family, but mostly they had been alone and unbothered, enjoying each other’s company.

But then it had all gone horribly wrong.

Rhys didn’t know why—maybe Jack had forgotten to take his medication this morning, or maybe there was something in the air, or maybe even someone had slipped him something nefarious earlier—but he knew the telltale signs enough to react immediately. His first instinct was to flee as Jack let out a vicious snarl, complaining about his clothes being too hot and tight as he ripped them away, but then he heard a scream of a young women in jogging shorts, pointing in horror at Jack’s increasingly hairy, muscular form. So Rhys stopped in his tracks, shoved his pants down, and shouted loudly to draw his transformed boyfriend’s attention.

Rhys knew that Jack couldn’t resist him.

He let out a small yelp as Jack’s bulk crashed into him, knocking him onto his belly as the werewolf mounted him, one clawed paw pressed against Rhys’ shoulder as he rutted his hard, thick cock against the young man’s still closed backside. Rhys whimpered as he felt thick, hot pectorals pressing against his back, pinning him down against the grass. Jack’s humid breath huffed against his neck briefly, before those long fangs bit down on the juncture between his throat and shoulder, making Rhys cry out in pleasure.

The young man prayed that any stragglers had fled the scene as his hole was stretched raw and open around the thick head of Jack’s cock as it sunk deep within his body. Jack’s powerful, hirsute frame surrounded him on all sides, its strength keeping him pinned roughly to the ground as the werewolf started to pound into him hard, leaving Rhys a moaning, twitching wreck in the middle of the otherwise calm, fall evening.

Kinktober Day 3: Public, Biting, Strength/Muscles

It smelled like wet leaves, despite the fact that Rhys can’t remember the last time it rained.

He’d been walking out with Jack, going through the long, twilight shadows in the local park. They had passed by the occasional couple or young family, but mostly they had been alone and unbothered, enjoying each other’s company.

But then it had all gone horribly wrong.

Rhys didn’t know why—maybe Jack had forgotten to take his medication this morning, or maybe there was something in the air, or maybe even someone had slipped him something nefarious earlier—but he knew the telltale signs enough to react immediately. His first instinct was to flee as Jack let out a vicious snarl, complaining about his clothes being too hot and tight as he ripped them away, but then he heard a scream of a young women in jogging shorts, pointing in horror at Jack’s increasingly hairy, muscular form. So Rhys stopped in his tracks, shoved his pants down, and shouted loudly to draw his transformed boyfriend’s attention.

Rhys knew that Jack couldn’t resist him.

He let out a small yelp as Jack’s bulk crashed into him, knocking him onto his belly as the werewolf mounted him, one clawed paw pressed against Rhys’ shoulder as he rutted his hard, thick cock against the young man’s still closed backside. Rhys whimpered as he felt thick, hot pectorals pressing against his back, pinning him down against the grass. Jack’s humid breath huffed against his neck briefly, before those long fangs bit down on the juncture between his throat and shoulder, making Rhys cry out in pleasure.

The young man prayed that any stragglers had fled the scene as his hole was stretched raw and open around the thick head of Jack’s cock as it sunk deep within his body. Jack’s powerful, hirsute frame surrounded him on all sides, its strength keeping him pinned roughly to the ground as the werewolf started to pound into him hard, leaving Rhys a moaning, twitching wreck in the middle of the otherwise calm, fall evening.

Kinktober Day 1: Spanking (2/2)

Rhys bruised like a peach.

It was honestly kind of fascinating to see the patterns of swelling bruises spreading over his ass, occasionally broken by skin torn and raised by the ring on Jack’s finger that helped his hand swing like a weighted pendulum down against the kid’s bare ass over and over again. He painted Rhys like a sloppy canvas, the harsh impressions of his palm and fingers blistering red as Rhys jolted and cried in his lap, rubbing his eyes uselessly against the fabric of Jack’s pants as the CEO harshly punished him.

His boner was poking awkwardly into Rhys’ stomach, his flat flesh trembling in hiccups and half-swallowed begging as Jack continued his barrage on the PA’s bottom. He kept smacking him, jolting him back and forth over his lap until the warmth twisting in his belly finally exploded, spilling out damp into the crotch of his pants. He looked down, chuckling as he noticed how hard he’d ended up gripping Rhys’ ass through his orgasm, leaving bright red crescents from the bite of his nails.

“Now,” Jack croaked, voice warbling from spent arousal as he rubbed Rhys’ ass, “what was my order, again?”

“Ah…ah…” Rhys panted. Jack could practically hear him suppress his crying. It was beautiful.

“I…medium coffee….one t-third steamed milk….two wh…brown sugars.”

Jack smirked, leaning back in his chair as he left his hand resting on Rhys’ tender, abused ass.

“You bet you’re gonna get it right next time.”

thethespacecoyote:

The boy looked even more gorgeous thrown against Jack’s bed, insulted blush coloring his cheeks as the pirate captain moved on top of him, pinning his wrists down against the red coverlet. He squirmed, knees instinctively coming up as he tried to force some space between himself and the imposing man. Jack only laughed, lifting one hand from the kid’s wrists to shove over his mouth. A touch of panic fluttered into his eyes as his free hand scrabbled at Jack’s suffocating palm, allowing the captain to force his way between his’ knees and shove their crotches together.

The young man bit him, digging his little perfect teeth into the web between Jack’s thumb and forefinger. Jack snickered as he pulled a face, turning to the side and spitting at the taste.

“You…ugh, do you pirates ever wash your hands?”

“You tell me,” Jack smiled as he lifted his hand only to shove two thick fingers right into his mouth.

Ghhh I’m not happy with this but I also don’t have the energy to go back and try to change this so? Have it as is.

Space pirates! Pirate captains fucking their rich prissy captives! Blowjobs!

Also uhh gonna slap a major warning for dubcon/noncon onto here cause it definitely veers into that. Also some gendered slurs and general nasty pirate behavior and talk.

Also this is Rhack not Rhackisha even if it looks like it’s heading that way in the beginning…yeah, not quite atm.

Buy me a coffee | Become a patron

Keep reading

The boy looked even more gorgeous thrown against Jack’s bed, insulted blush coloring his cheeks as the pirate captain moved on top of him, pinning his wrists down against the red coverlet. He squirmed, knees instinctively coming up as he tried to force some space between himself and the imposing man. Jack only laughed, lifting one hand from the kid’s wrists to shove over his mouth. A touch of panic fluttered into his eyes as his free hand scrabbled at Jack’s suffocating palm, allowing the captain to force his way between his’ knees and shove their crotches together.

The young man bit him, digging his little perfect teeth into the web between Jack’s thumb and forefinger. Jack snickered as he pulled a face, turning to the side and spitting at the taste.

“You…ugh, do you pirates ever wash your hands?”

“You tell me,” Jack smiled as he lifted his hand only to shove two thick fingers right into his mouth.

Ghhh I’m not happy with this but I also don’t have the energy to go back and try to change this so? Have it as is.

Space pirates! Pirate captains fucking their rich prissy captives! Blowjobs!

Also uhh gonna slap a major warning for dubcon/noncon onto here cause it definitely veers into that. Also some gendered slurs and general nasty pirate behavior and talk.

Also this is Rhack not Rhackisha even if it looks like it’s heading that way in the beginning…yeah, not quite atm.

Buy me a coffee | Become a patron

Nisha always brought Jack such lovely presents.

Usually they were in the form of booty—treasures plundered from her own excursions, or robbed from slain merchants—or unfortunate souls ripped from their ships or planets and tortured by the gleeful pair until they died from shock or were shot out the airlock as soon as the captain grew bored. On occasion, she even brought him a member of a new species found clinging to a wrecked hull or hiding in some exotic terrain which would quickly be added to Jack’s growing menagerie of deadly critters.

But sometimes, she found something truly rare and exciting that sent the pirate captain into a veritable fit of greedy interest.

Through a stroke of luck, they had come across a luxury space liner that had strayed from the typical course of safety through this particular arm of the galaxy. It had been quite a surprise to see the sleek, brilliant white ship cruise into view, but Jack wasn’t one to turn his nose up at such a gift, especially one that had fallen right into his lap.

The sheer amount of treasure they’d ended up stripping from the ship and its unfortunate guests had nearly caused Jack to salivate, but the crown jewel of the entire raid was what Nisha had brought him as she’d arrived on the final ship from the now damaged, stranded liner.

Though he heard the prize she’d snagged for Jack before he even saw him.

“Put me down, put me down, you disgusting cur!”

Nisha laughed as she shoved the young man in front of her, sending him sprawling to the floor with an undignified yelp. The length of leather cord grasped tight in her hands pulled taunt, yanking the man’s arms behind him. Jack grinned, eyes glimmering with interest as Nisha bent down next to her catch, grabbing a handful of curled, auburn hair and yanking his face up. Not that the kid needed much help with that—even on the floor, already bruised and tied up like a hog, the kid still held his chin up high, staring at Jack as if he were space slime scraped off the sole of his boots.

Oh, but he was pretty. He had the flawless, smooth skin of something who never seen a hard day’s work in his life, and the fine, sloping features of the aristocracy. His hair had been jostled out of place by Nisha’s rough grip but it glinted in the lights of the main deck like delicately spun jewelry. He was dressed in clothes that may very well have cost more than Jack’s entire ship—a beautiful navy tailcoat with shimmering paisley patterns, a high white collar and bright gold buttons, sheathed around a royal yellow satin shirt and a tumbling cravat that tightened around his pulsing throat. His black leather boots crunched as he shifted in place, trying to sit up straighter even as Nisha manhandled him.

“Well, well, well,” Jack smirked, each word accentuated with the thunk of his own boots, “what do we got here, Nish?”

The woman’s chipped nails grasped roughly at Rhys’ chin and yanked it up and to the side, exposing the enticing cream of his neck, marred only by a curious looking tattoo. Jack watched, scratching his stubbly chin as Nisha sniffed against the exposed skin.

“Found him in one of those fancy-ass cabins, hiding in the bathroom. Thought he was pretty enough that you’d like to play around with him rather than just have me slit his belly.”

She licked up his neck, prompting him to gasp in disgust.

“Mmm, he tastes sweet, Jack,” she cackled right into the prisoner’s ear. The young man stiffened, lip curling as he glared up at the captain.

“I—I demand, on behalf of the Atlas Corporation, on behalf of my father that you release me—ah, at once!” The young man snapped, as stern as he could muster with both of Nisha’s hands now sliding up his front, groping his chest through his thick layers of clothes.

“Heh….really bagged me a mouthy one, huh Nish?” Jack sauntered forward, heavy boots falling with a metallic thump. He bent over, reaching out to touch Rhys’ hair. The young man jerked, tossing his head away from Jack’s touch like a particularly bratty cat.

“You get your hands off of me, or I’ll have them cut off,” Rhys warned, flinching as Jack’s rough, gloved fingers rubbed against his cheek.

“Mmm, you’re really cute, kiddo. And you gotta lot of moxie. Lucky you. That probably saved your hide today.”

A little growl rumbled from the boy’s lips as Jack grasped his jaw, turning his head from side to side as if he were examining the health of livestock.

“E-Every second you lay your hands on me is another year added to your sentence! K-Keep it up and Atlas will have you executed for your crimes!” The young man protested as he wriggled against his bonds, trying to both shift away from Nisha rubbing his chest and Jack gripping his chin, to little effect.

The pirate captain ignored him and tugged Rhys’ face closer until they were practically sharing breath. Jack sniffed deep, getting a lungful of his pretty scent. Vanilla, rose. Undoubtedly expensive. He watched the young man’s nose wrinkle at their proximity but he kept his eyes open wide, eyebrows defiantly knit together even as his features flickered with fear.

“Ohh, look at him, he’s perfect. Nish, lets get ‘em to my quarters,” Jack shoved the captive away and rose, clapping his hands together.

Nisha nodded with a cruel grin and hefted the young man up in the air, ignoring his kicking and struggling as she slung him over her shoulder, following Jack from the main deck back towards his cabin.

Jack’s stateroom was far from the rest of his crew’s quarters, tucked away into a quieter area of the ship far away from the main engines. It was a perfect little sanctuary for the captain to indulge in his new prize without fear of interruption.

Nisha dumped their captive onto the wide, blood-red bed first thing, and was nearly on top of him by the time Jack had managed to close the door. A frown flickered on the captain’s features as he stalked over, gripping her shoulder.

“Ay, what do you think you’re doing there, Nish?”

She turned her head to look at him with annoyed, hooded eyes, her hands continuing to rub down their captive’s body, squeezing upset little moans out of him.

“What kind of a question is that? I’m breaking in your new cabin boy, cap’n.”

“Riiiiiight. My new cabin boy. Get it?” Jack huffed as he pushed her away. Gently. There was no need to stoke the woman’s ire any more than he had to.

Thankfully, Nisha relented with only a slight flash of annoyance in her golden eyes, holding up her hands as she slid off the bed and retreated back to the doorway.

“Mmm. Fine. But I want to play with him later, all right?” She slid her scrappy, gloved hand up the sleek wood of the doorframe, trailing the other down her scarred chest.

“Look at him, he’s got such pretty skin…I want to see what it’d look like all bruised up and bloody,” a greedy grin split across her purple lips as she waved mockingly to the both of them, before slamming the cabin door behind her and leaving the stateroom echoing with her harsh laughter.

Jack sighed in relief. Tugging at his coat, he slowly started to strip off his layers, draping them over the elegant back of his chair until he was down to only his shirt, pants, and boots.

“Good….don’t wanna deal with that today,” the captain purred as he returned his attention back to the young man on the bed, “now I can focus on the real fun, right starshine?”

“Fun?” The kid sniffed derisively, still looking at Jack as if he were a rotten piece of meat, “I dread to think about what you reprobates call fun.”

“You’ve got a real stick up your ass, you know that?” Jack snickered as he clasped his hands behind his back, drawing closer to the bed. The young man had wriggled up into a sitting position, his back and bound forearms pressed against the golden headboard. His lips were curled in an impudent frown as his eyes flickered all over the stateroom, presumably looking for some kind of an exit or something to free his bonds with.

“You’re looking a little uncomfortable there, princess,” Jack smirked as he grabbed his dirk from the clothes piled on the chair. His hand settled heavily on the young man’s shoulder, turning him until his back faced the pirate. The captive let out a small whine at the touch, his fingers twitching and tensing as Jack slid the blade underneath the thick leather cords binding his wrists.

The first thing he did when Jack freed his hands was try to punch him.

Considering the kid had been facing away from the captain and the fact that Jack’s reflexes and strength were far superior, it didn’t end well. He had barely had a chance to raise his fist and turn around before Jack was upon him, leaping on top of the captive and tossing him back onto the mattress.

The boy looked even more gorgeous thrown against Jack’s bed, insulted blush coloring his cheeks as the pirate captain moved on top of him, pinning his wrists down against the red coverlet. He squirmed, knees instinctively coming up as he tried to force some space between himself and the imposing man. Jack only laughed, lifting one hand from the kid’s wrists to shove over his mouth. A touch of panic fluttered into his eyes as his free hand scrabbled at Jack’s suffocating palm, allowing the captain to force his way between his’ knees and shove their crotches together.

The young man bit him, digging his little perfect teeth into the web between Jack’s thumb and forefinger. Jack snickered as he pulled a face, turning to the side and spitting at the taste.

“You…ugh, do you pirates ever wash your hands?”

“You tell me,” Jack smiled as he lifted his hand only to shove two thick fingers right into his mouth.

The young man gagged almost immediately, his free hand grabbed Jack’s wrist and trying to pull him away, put Jack pushed forward, rubbing his fingers all around the warm slick of the young aristocrat’s mouth. He tried biting him again, his teeth gnawing ineffectively against Jack’s knuckle until he shoved his fingertips all the way in the back of the kid’s throat, making it spasm.

“Y…you trying to make me…ugh…” he rasped, gagging as Jack whipped his fingers away, wiping them on the young man’s coat.

“Nah. Not into puke, sugar. Just thought it was funny,” Jack admitted with a loose shrug of the shoulders.

“Funny…you have a sick sense of humor…”

“Yeah, well, you think my hands are dirty, then you just wait n’ see what I’m going to shove in their next ah…” Jack furrowed his eyebrows, squinting down at the man.

“Heh. Never thought to ask your name, pumpkin. What do they call ya?”

The boy laughed, voice high and derisive.

“Y-You, you really think I’m going to tell you my name, you mongrel? Hearing it in your filthy, degenerate tongue would really end up making me sick.”

“Fine. Then I’ll make up my own names for ya. How about bitch, whore, cockslut, jizz rag, any of those work for you your majesty—“

“That last one sounded nice.”

“Pfft, you’re gonna learn quick enough that the only king around here is me, you little cum-dump,” Jack murmured, emphasis cruel and harsh on the pejorative. The young man’s defiant expression warbled in disgust.

“I….It…Rhys…” he mumbled between his tightly pressed lips, “it’s Rhys, fine, just don’t…don’t call me a…what did you say?”

“Bitch? Whore? Cum-dump?”

“All of those just….ugh…you people are vile,” Rhys’ nose wrinkled, corners of his lips dropping as if they’d just laid anchor. Jack flicked at his mouth with a triumphant smirk.

“Well Rhys, my name is Jack. You can call me captain if you’d like, though I’d prefer if you scream it.”

“What’s…what’s that supposed to mean,” Rhys hissed, scandalized. Jack rolled his eyes, rutting his heavy crotch down against Rhys’.

“Wow. You’re a stuck-up prick but I didn’t think you were stupid, kiddo. You’re in the captain’s quarters pinned under the captain himself, and you’re sitting here slack-jawed asking what’s gonna happen to ya. Ain’t your daddy warn you about what pirates do with their new slaves?”

Rhys’ eyes widened, cheeks blushing brighter.

“You….don’t…don’t you dare…” He eked out, tongue nervously lapping at his lips.

Jack tutted, shaking his head condescendingly at the young man below him as he watched full realization washed over him.

“Oh, I dare, kiddo. You’re not locked away safe in your little ivory tower anymore.”

Jack straightened up, shifting forward until he was sitting fully on Rhys’ hips, keeping him pinned down against the bed with his bulk as his broad hand rested against the crotch of his pants. The full size of his half-hard cock could easily be seen through the satiny fabric, a fact that was clearly reflected in the look that Rhys shot towards his groin.

“You’re mine, and I’m gonna use you however I see fit. But I’m a nice guy. So I’m gonna let you decide. Ass or mouth, pumpkin?”

“What?” Rhys glared at Jack’s tented crotch as if an alien were about to burst out of it, “you….I’m not letting that get anywhere near me.”

“My dick’s going in somewhere before the night’s through. So you tell me, ass or mouth?”

Rhys dug his teeth into his lower lip, his fingers fisting helplessly into the blood-red sheets below him, his creamy throat bobbing.

“I…”

“Tick tock, tick tock, pumpkin, if you don’t hurry it up daddy’s just gonna have to decide for you,”

“Mouth,” Rhys said quickly, flinching at his own voice. Jack leaned over the young man, strands of hair falling to frame his face as he looked down upon his prey.

“Awww, not good enough, baby. C’mon, thought you aristocrat types were all about manners?” Jack smirked, smoothing his firm thumb over Rhys’ chin.

“So? Go ahead. Ask me nicely.”

“Mouth, please,” Rhys hissed, the murderous look he glowered at Jack interrupted as the captain grabbed him by the hair and pulled until the captive was sitting up, cheek pressed snugly up against the bulge in Jack’s pants. Rhys squeaked, hands smacking against Jack’s thighs but the pirate’s grip held firm, squashing Rhys’ face against his twitching cock. Moist fabric smeared against Rhys’ skin, leaving a glistening little trail of pre-cum over his high cheekbone.

Rhys’ eyes widened as Jack slid one hand into his pants, peeling away the waistband until his cock flopped out against the captive’s stunned face like the swollen stamen of some exotic plant. Rhys flinched, trying to pull away only for the pirate to yank him back, keeping him flush against his now fully erect cock. A small golden ring pierced through the tip of his dick jingled, a drip of pre-cum trickling down the curve of the precious metal.

Jack kept his hand in Rhys’ hair, heavy rings scraping against the young man’s tender scalp as his other hand roughly cupped his chin, fingers digging into the soft hollow of flesh under his jaw.

“If you bite me, I’m gonna grab my whip, okay? So don’t even think about it,” Jack warned as his dick brushed against Rhys’ lips. He didn’t miss the way the kid looked at his cock as if it were a piece of particularly unappetizing food, but he honestly didn’t really care if Rhys liked this or not. He wasn’t exactly in a position to negotiate, and as far as Jack was concerned he’d already been more than charitable in letting the kid decided where he was gonna fuck first.

So the little noise of disgust that Rhys made when he shoved his dick past those pretty pink lips didn’t really bother him at all.

He could feel the way Rhys’ tongue pushed futilely back against him, muscle strong and flexing at it tried to shove away the inexorably force of Jack’s cock-head sinking into the inhospitable warmth of the kid’s mouth.

The hand grasping Rhys’ chin slid down to rest calmly over his neck. Jack felt his cock twitch as Rhys’ throat clenched and fluttered underneath his palm, instinctively tensing as Jack’s cock shoved towards the back of the young man’s mouth.

His tongue was clumsy, unused to having something so large and unyielding thrust inside of him, but Jack didn’t particularly care if Rhys took to blowjobs like a moon to orbit, he just wanted a warm, wet hole to fuck and if Rhys picked up on some heretofore unknown cock-sucking talent then well, that was just an added bonus he could relish in later.

He pulled Rhys’ mouth up and down the shaft of his length, properly slicking it up before he shoved the kid harder against his crotch, until his lips brushed up against Jack’s balls and the his nose buried into his untamed pubes. Pleasure tensed in Jack’s belly one moment as he felt the pulsing head of his cock brush up against the quivering wet of the back of Rhys’ throat, only to be pierced by a sudden shock of pain the next as Rhys choked, instinctively biting down around the base of Jack’s cock.

The pirate captain hissed, wrenching Rhys off of his dick. Anger flashed in his eyes as he glared down at the impudent young thing, who had the nerve to look pleased with himself even though they both new Jack well that was involuntary and Rhys didn’t have the balls to actually try to bite someone as deadly as Jack. Unless the kid had complete gruel for brains.

“What did I say about biting, kitten?” Jack warned, voice rising in an artificially sweet pitch as he tugged at Rhys’ hair, shaking him like a disobedient kitten.

“Cut that crap out, or I’ll dickslap you so hard ‘cross the face that it’ll leave a mark.”

Rhys’ lips curled in a nasty smirk, spitting a mouthful of saliva and precum onto Jack’s pants.

“Yeah? Is that how you got that ugly scar?”

Rhys screamed as Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him off the bed, the captive sliding off with the red sheets tangled around his legs. His head lolled dazedly as Jack grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him back up as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, thick soles clunking against the wooden floor on either side of Rhys’ fallen body. The young man whimpered and whined as Jack pulled him upright and mashed his face back against his cock, rubbing Rhys’ stunned, wet lips against the cum and saliva smeared head.

“Mmm, you’re really funny there, kid. Really funny. Careful now, I might be so busy laughing that I don’t realize I’m wringing your frikkin’ neck,” Jack growled, voice low and dark as his fingers danced down said neck, leaving a trail of prickling hairs in their wake. His thumb wrapped around until he was squeezing Rhys’ throat with deceptive softness. Tight sobs of pain and fear wracked through the young aristocrat as he looked up at Jack with wide, desperate eyes. This time, Jack barely had to fight as he slipped his cock past Rhys’ lips, sliding all the way back in.

“Or maybe I’ll fuck your throat so hard you die. Make you choke on it. Ah, but that would be such a waste. ‘Cause I’ve got plans for you, sugar. Big plans. You’re perfect for ‘em. Even if you are a mouthy lil’ brat. But we can fix that, can’t we?”

Rhys nodded weakly, his tongue flickering against his shaft, more supplicant than it had been before. It was the start of a proper apology for insulting his new captain, but Jack was sure he could wring even more subservience out of him.

Jack kept his hold on Rhys’ throat as he released the young man’s hair, letting the now tangled locks fall back against his head as he cupped Rhys’ face, lodging his thumb between Rhys’ teeth and the shaft of his owncock as he carefully nudged the head further towards the young man’s throat. Rhys choked, breaths coming short and abortive through his nose like the sputtering flares of a dying engine.

“Breath through your nose, idiot, it’s not that hard,” Jack growled as he forced his way into the mouth of Rhys’ gullet, even as his muscles quivered and contracted and tryied to force Jack away. Rhys made a strangled whine as Jack slid further down inside him, his throat spasming around the head of the pirate king’s pierced cock.

Jack stopped himself from going further, deciding to give the kid a little bit of mercy. He halted, hand cautiously lifting from Rhys’ neck to slid into his hair, petting him slowly. He could feel Rhys reflexively swallow around him, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he tried to wrestle control of his breathing with a cock stuffed into his throat.

After a couple moments respite Jack figured he’d been patient enough, and once it felt like Rhys wasn’t on the verge of a frikkin’ heart attack his hand curled rougher in Rhys’ hair, and he snapped his hips up off of the bed, thrusting a fraction of an inch deeper in Rhys’ throat before bouncing back out. Rhys still gagged, but it was less violent than before. A smile curled over Jack’s lips and again he tightened his grip on Rhys, starting to properly fuck the aristocrat’s mouth.

Saliva and pre-cum dripped onto Rhys’ fancy cravat as Jack’s shaft brushed against the young man’s lips, rubbing them red and glistening. Funny that the prissy brat’s clothes were still mostly intact—well, as pristine as they had been when Nisha had dragged him onto the ship—but from the neck up he was quite a different story. The pale skin of his throat was marked with the reddened impressions of Jack’s fingers, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his lips stretch around the cock and forefinger shoved into his mouth. His chin and jaw are dripping with a mingle of various fluid now streaked with bits of red from where Jack’s piercing had pulled too hard against Rhys’ tender lip.

“Oh, I really like you, kiddo. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a little thing I can fuck around with whenever I want,” Jack hummed as he kept thrusting in and out of Rhys’ throat, ignoring the little whimpers of discomfort as he continued his monologue.

“Nish, y’know, she’s fantastic, and Timmy’s great if I need some dick, but it’s been awhile since I’ve got a little slip of a slut that’ll just lie there and take it,” he emphasized with a thrust that sent Rhys spluttering. The sparkle of tears was starting to swell in the corners of the young aristocrat’s eyes, spilling down when Jack gave his cheek an hearty pinch.

“Mmmm. You’re real adorable when you’re not talking, y’know? Really does it for me. To shut up mouthy little bitches like you who think they’re better than everyone else.”

Rhys drooled heavily around his cock, eyelids fluttering dazedly even as his eyebrows furrowed. Grinning, Jack thrust into Rhys’ throat as hard and as far as he could, making the kid’s entire body spasm. Jack grabbed Rhys’ hair harshly, keeping his throat impaled on his cock as he arched cruelly over him, looking down at where the aristocrat was being plugged up with his cock. Jack’s voice was growing hoarse with his own arousal, rippling over Rhys’ body like heavy, invisible waves.

“I don’t care about how much money your daddy has, sweetheart. I don’t care what kind of a big shot you thought you were, because you’re mine now and you’re gonna learn real fast that around here, everyone’s screams sound the same when they’re under the captain. And as soon as he decides he wants you, nothing is gonna save you.”

Jack pulled himself out of Rhys’ throat roughly. The aristocrat barely had a moment to cough before Jack’s dick splattered all over his face, painting his cheeks and swollen lips with a sudden spray of cum. The young man flinched, an affronted squeak rasping from his mouth as the captain came all over his face. Hot threads of jizz splashed onto his cheeks, one eye scrunched tightly as a glob of the stuff splattered against it, splashing up into his hairline. Rhys trembled with disgust, his throat trembling as he tried to swallow down the incredible amount of shameful arousal so very evident in his face. And probably any cum that had managed to land in his mouth.

Jack shivered at the sight.

“Ooohh….kid, you look damn good like that,”Jack purred, rubbing a finger through one of the streaks of cum on Rhys’ face, painting it over his soft, heated skin. The young man’s eyes were glassy, following Jack’s hand numbly as he grabbed the hem of Rhys’ cravat, using it to wipe the sticky release off his face, leaving the fabric blotched and stained.

“What, nothing to say now, sweetheart? Jack got your tongue?” The captain smirked, leaning down to slide his hands underneath Rhys’ armpits, dragging the limp aristocrat back onto the bed. Rhys whined with discomfort, spitting up a little saliva and cum onto the sheets as Jack rolled him onto his belly, grabbing his belt from the chair and buckling it deftly around the boy’s waist, binding his forearms tightly to his back. He grabbed Rhys by the loose tongue of the belt, tugging him up towards the headboard and pulling Rhys into a spooning position. He smiled, genuinely happy as he nuzzled against the back of Rhys’ neck, draping one arm around the young man’s shuddering waist.

“Mmm, you’re so warm…” Jack mumbled against Rhys neck, sleepy and satisfied in the wake of his orgasm. Rhys said nothing, not that the pirate captain really minded. The kid’s throat had probably been rubbed raw from the blowjob anyways.

Jack reminded himself to thank Nisha in the morning right before he slipped into a pleasant sleep, relishing in the soothing warmth of his newfound treasure.