𝓢.

dilf!dottore who is actually not even a traditional dilf, but you believe that he is. you’d seen the adorable eight year old that was practically the splitting image of him! no dna test needed at all ( literally ) — you truly wondered if the mother had even had a hand in the genetics..

dilf!dottore who moved next door to you to run an experiment of some kind in a domestic neighborhood in snezhnaya, wanting to investigate the suburban life that eluded him.. and he stumbles across a most interesting subject in the process.

dilf!dottore who opens the door ever so curiously by the second knock, finding none other than yourself — bundled up in your warmest furs to offer up a basket of baked goods as a welcome to.. the second of the fatui harbingers?? were your eyes deceiving you? he had a wife and kid this whole time?!

dilf!dottore who barely allowed you the chance to blurt out the plethora of questions floating around your head because his adorable ‘son’ was already taking the basket into his hands with a polite expression of thanks, gazing up at you with curious yet distant rubies. as if there was more to the story than he was allowed to give away.

dilf!dottore who chuckles softly at the ‘eagerness’ of his ‘son’, taking him into his arms after the basket is placed on the nearest table to properly speak with you. idle chatter about the neighborhood and yourself, which you answer a little too easily. you can’t help it — those big scarlet eyes were glued to you in a way that left everything tumbling out of your mouth, including the fact that you were very much employed, single and living on your own.

dilf!dottore that realizes he’s struck gold with this silly little project of his when he proposes the idea of coming over for tea — as a thank you for the welcome basket.. which slowly turns into weekly dinners, picking the kid up from school, babysitting whenever he had to spend more time on projects, and eventually.. the loss of your virginity.

dilf!dottore that couldn’t say no when you had clearly shown to want him so badly, reassuring that the kid was ‘with his mother’ and therefore making for the perfect time for him to take nice care of you.

dilf!dottore who was saccharine as he was cruel. he knew all the right places to touch, knew just how to get you unraveling so beautifully for him even when you worried you might not be able to give him the best sex due to not having tried it yourself until now. of course he couldn’t expect much, but that didn’t deter him in the slightest. he could teach you as well as he could ruin you from receiving the same pleasure from any other individual. that date you ranted to him about one day after work? you’re gonna forget all about them by the time he’s through with you.

dilf!dottore that is as selfish as he is generous. a father was a rather giving figure, he’d gathered, and he was capable of doing the same.. but he also wanted you to earn it. a good little thing should work for their reward — it would be all the better once that sweet release leaves you. but if you wanted to be disobedient in any way, well.. brats could easily be tamed and disciplined if they ever want to cum again.

dilf!dottore who makes sure to praise you when you behave so well for him. he wants you to know how good you feel all around his cock, gripping him like a vice, and how wonderful you look falling apart for him, and him alone.

dilf!dottore who loves the way your eyes gloss over when you’re positively overstimulated — whimpering and writhing all while he coos down at you in such a pitying way, but it’s making his dick twitch with excitement. you’re just so cute, crying for him so helplessly.. part of him wondered how you might look with his cock sliding in and out of your mouth one of these days — or just letting it sit in there while he got through his work for the week.

dilf!dottore that considers furthering this little side project by taking you as his spouse and producing a baby comprised of the both of you, rather than the segment posing as his son.

notes. hoo boy mb for the delay on this! i did not know how to do dilf dottie considering he yk.. did not have the best childhood, but i found a loophole so i hope this scratched the itch<3

tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3

Hot summer days were always the worst; it was always muggy with unbearable, suffocating heat. Even eating felt like too much of a chore.

Though it wasn’t like Cheren ate much anyway (scratch that, more like remember that eating was a necessary human function).

That’s why Thry found himself peeking into the teacher lounge on a day where he would honestly rather be hiding in the forest. At least the tree canopy shaded away most of the sun’s rays.

The teacher lounge of Aspertia’s trainer school, and by extension the Aspertia Gym, was, unfortunately, not air-conditioned. With recent renovations underway for the gym itself, why the actual school never got anything more than a few measly rotating fans was beyond Thry. Either way, it wasn’t like they were some expert in renovations and architecture.

It was quiet in the lounge, save for the rustle of papers or the occasional keyboard tapping. Thry were practically craning their neck through the barely open door like a Diglett until-

“Thry, you don’t have to stick your head into the door first. You can come in.”

Cheren was already standing up from his desk in the lounge, tapping the pile of graded papers in his hands against the desk. Clearly, the heat was getting to him as well; his sleeves were rolled all the way up, and even his usually pristine tie was slightly loosened. More for Thry to look at- what? Who said that!

“I’m just being polite,” Thry retorted with a nose upturned. He pushed the door further ajar to slip inside. The fans whirred overhead, and the light curtains along the wall of small windows billowed in the artificial breeze. Side-stepping the two worn couches, Thry hopped over to Cheren’s side with a grin and a tightly tied cloth bag held up towards Cheren’s face.

”Guess what I have,” they said, dangling the mystery bag in front of the taller man’s face.

Cheren blinked, leaning back a bit to avoid getting smacked in the face. “Um, I’m not sure. A Pokemon?”

A chilled silence fell over the room.

“Give me a real damn guess, Cheren,” they replied sourly. “Or I’m tossing it out the window.”

With a huff, Cheren carefully pushed the bag out of his face. His eyebrow raised to balance out his smile as he examined it. “Well, it’s light enough that you can swing it around in my face. And since it’s just about lunch time, my guess is that it’s food?”

Thry brightened immediately, shoving the bag again into Cheren’s face. “That’s right! I brought us cold sushi to eat together.” They glanced up and down at the much lankier Gym Leader with a grimace. It wasn’t like Cheren was that skinny, per se, but he could always do better. At least, that’s what Thry thought.

“Arceus knows you need to eat.”

“I am not that light-”

But Thry was already dragging Cheren away from his desk by his wrist— just tight enough that Cheren couldn’t escape. If any of the other one or two teachers that were still in the room noticed, they certainly chose not to comment on how the rookie teacher was being dragged around like a stick in a dog’s mouth.

The two plopped down on one of the lounge couches; the old thing creaked as its plush cushions sank to accommodate them. The cloth bag was quickly unravelled to display a carefully packaged, white takeout container, some crumpled napkins, two pairs of plastic-wrapped chopsticks, and some soy sauce packets haphazardly tossed in for the finishing touch. The quintessential takeout sushi experience.

“I got us some sashimi, uh, maki rolls, yam rolls…” Thry continued on to point out each sushi type he got with the takeout container, which sat haphazardly on his lap. “It’s from this new sushi place just down the block— you’ve probably seen it on your walks— so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

Cheren nodded along, unwrapping each of the chopsticks for both Thry and him. He held it out for Thry, who happily grabbed it with a small thanks. “I have seen it, but I haven’t tried anything on their menu yet. This will be a good chance to try out something local. I haven’t had sushi for a while.”

“You haven’t had much of anything to be fair-”

“Thry.”

Thry snickered, grabbing a tuna roll from the container as it jostled slightly (saved only by Cheren using one hand to steady it). “Sorry, sorry, I’m kidding.” Their smile softened in between chewing.

Swallowing the roll, they watched as Cheren grabbed his own tuna roll to eat. Unlike Thry, who shoved the sushi into his mouth with puffed-up cheeks, Cheren had enough manners to eat it in two bites rather than one. It wasn’t like he complained about Thry’s less-than-stellar eating habits, if Cheren reaching over to gently wipe the corner of Thry’s mouth with a takeout napkin was any proof of that.

“I can wipe my own mouth,” they pointed out. They grabbed the napkin out of Cheren’s hand to make a show of independence.

“I never said you can’t. You just get… messy. Sometimes.” Cheren replied easily, already reaching over with his chopsticks to grab a piece of sashimi that Thry had yet to skewer. In fact, it was the last one with how quickly they went through the raw fish pieces. He knew Thry could eat politely, but if it was just the two of them… well, all bets were off the table.

Just as his chopsticks picked up the delicate piece of pink-orange sashimi, Cheren felt a heavy sensation on his left side. One slow turn revealed the source of it; Thry was already staring dead-center at him. Not a single expression graced their lips, though the wide-eyed look and the way those deep brown irises looked straight at Cheren could only mean one thing.

With a half-amused, half-exasperated smile, Cheren lifted the sashimi up to Thry’s mouth. They blinked in surprise, breaking out of the staring stupor with a humble expression. “Wh- Cheren, you don’t have to.”

“I insist,” the Gym Leader said. The raw fish hovered just in front of Thry’s pursed lips, all tempting for poor Thry. “You like sashimi much more than I do. Go on. Say ah.”

Thry floundered for a moment, unsure whether to feel vaguely insulted or grateful. His eyes flickered from the fish to Cheren’s barely concealed smirk, and the rest of the sushi in the takeout container. They were way too weak.

They bit their lip with a hint of a rosy blush behind their black, wire-rimmed glasses, the hesitation clear, before finally…

“Ahhh.”

And just like that, the sashimi was dropped into his mouth. Despite the embarrassment and wounded pride, Thry still chewed on the fish with a small pout. Cheren looked too smug for their liking, his chopsticks retracting back, like he had won this little game. Though Thry had to give it to Cheren, the Gym Leader was strategic.

“Thanks… I guess,” Thry said, side-eying the other man. The frown hadn’t quite left their face yet before they began shoving one of the yam rolls into Cheren’s mouth. “Your turn! Open up, Cherry!”

“Thry, hold on-!”

prof!dottore that’s being handed papers or having full blown conversations with colleagues while you’re underneath his desk, warming his cock with your mouth. make sure you don’t do anything funny, or it’ll cost you your final grade!

prof!dottore who makes you study by asking you questions while he’s balls deep inside of you, edging you by demanding descriptive and accurate responses.. unless you don’t want to cum?

prof!dottore who gives you after school tutoring but he’s fucking you beyond comprehension; what else does he want you to retain other than him? yet the man still has the audacity to inquire about the material you were supposed to be going over afterwards.

prof!dottore who notices your akademiya robes hugging your figure just a little more than it should, dropping things to bend down and pick them up with this look of innocence that he quickly fucks out of you once the last bell rings and it’s just the two of you in his office that he calls you to.

prof!dottore who watches you stumble into class the next day, inquiring in that pitying voice what kind of ‘after school activities’ you overexerted yourself with despite knowing full well what said activities were and who was responsible for them.

prof!dottore who dual wields praise and degradation in a way that has your insides fluttering like crazy even without his touches or presence.

prof!dottore that hovers over you while you study, articulating whispered concepts in such a backhanded way that has you clenching around absolutely nothing and fighting back every urge to grind against the seat. and when you dare glance up at him as though to question what he meant by what he was saying, he merely stared back as though having spoken about something as mundane as the weather or the gossip from the cafeteria.

prof!dottore that backs you up against the wall while no one is around or looking, capturing your chin in between his leather-clad fingers to pull your collar to the side while he presses a kiss long enough to leave behind a mark only known between the two of you.

prof!dottore who has papers to correct at home, and subjects you to warming his cock because you begged for something.. so he proposed this option until he finishes. but if you get, hm, a little daring — it’s the toy for you and if there’s a setting, it’s the lowest possible one. move again, and you’re getting zip out of him.

prof!dottore who sees you laughing with your fellow alumni, brushing them lightheartedly with the quickest, unnoticeable glance his way to see if he was looking, and orders you sternly to stay behind after class for ‘disrupting’. it was needless to say that you almost stayed home the next day after having your back blown out, were it not for his strict attendance looming so cruelly over your head. “mm, you wouldn’t want to be a bad student by sullying that beautiful record of yours, would you? it’d be so humiliating as well to be unable to answer my questions the following day, too..”

prof!dottore who could either pet your hair so sweetly while you give him head, or pull so cruelly, making sure to leave you gagging on his cock. and if it can’t fit all the way, don’t you worry — he’ll make sure it does.

prof!dottore who has to fight back from bending you over the damn table in the middle of class when you say sir, doctor or professor zandik in a way that shouldn’t be said in front of so many — knowing none of you could do anything until much later.

prof!dottore who plops himself down on your desk while he leans over to explain something, thighs mere centimeters away from brushing your hand — not to mention his ass.

prof!dottore who sends you off to class with a toy he’d made for stuffing you, controlling the pace from underneath his desk with the remote he designed to pair with it. it fluctuates in intensity, but he always brings it back to the slowest pace before you can quite finish or fall apart among your fellow classmates.

prof!dottore who can only hum and smirk to himself when you cry about him being too much or too big, but he just pushes himself deeper into you, purring ever so cruelly into your ear that you were so confident before about taking him, so you could surely live up to that provocation.

prof!dottore who has ruined you for anyone else because who else could fuck you as good as he could?

notes. bless im finally home as im posting this, fuck my stomach hurts so bad uwuueueeu save me doctor please i need this pain to cease

tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3