I Yearn For Thee
pairing: 12th Doctor x fem!reader
genre: smut, just blatant smut there is 0 plot here
tags: older man x younger woman, degradation kink, scent kink, unprotected p in v, a hint of dacryphilia (if you squint), fluffy aftercare, reader has daddy issues, genuinely horny reader like omg shes so down bad she needs to be put on a leash
word count: 4.3K
summary: after months of pining for the Doctor, you realise he wasn't nearly as oblivious as you thought him to be
a/n: guys whenever I write abt a wet pussy i always think abt that time when ben shapiro said a wap is unnatural bc his wife is never wet
Life in the TARDIS was always a curious thing, what with all the planets and nebulas and timelines out there, but above all else, the Doctor.
Oh, was he a treat to travel with.
He was mean and grumpy and his brows were always furrowed with such intense displeasure. He would roll up his sleeves and save the world, while bitching about how everyone was pudding-brained and really, you were pretty sure the only reason he didn't resort to calling everyone a ‘dumb bitch’ was because he considered himself too dignified for it. And after it all, he'd run about the console, not tired in the least, gearing up for the next adventure.
And you wanted him. Carnally.
A part of you was glad the Doctor didn't use profanity, nor was he particularly affectionate, because you would simply explode. It was awful enough without him being intentionally cruel, the way his tongue curled around his words in displeasure, the wrinkled lines of his face set deep with the annoyance of two millenia.
You'd met him on the day when cybermen had flown into the sky and exploded, shortly after one ran at you full-speed, arm gun pointed, like a missile. His coat had been billowing behind him, sonic screwdriver in hand, and he'd whirred the thing into slumping onto the ground.
“You do that a lot?” You'd asked, panting wildly.
“Yes. Do you do that a lot? Stand and let yourself be rammed to death?” He’d waved the screwdriver at you, eyeing you curiously.
Your lips had twitched into a smirk, innuendo flirting on its edges.
“Ah, well, as much as I would love to get rammed to death, I don't really make a habit of it, no.”
“Well that's a stupid thing to love.” The Doctor mumbled, joke going over his head and behind, somewhere beside the inactive cyberman.
You'd followed him to the graveyard, stupidly. You weren't sure why, all your brain could think of in that moment was, ‘That hot man just saved my life. What's the worst that could happen?’
Inevitably, that same logic had landed you in the TARDIS, ooh-ing and ah-ing at every star system he showed you, his face a rare expression of wonderment instead of its usual derision.
You felt like a pervert most of the time, being around him. The Doctor would do something as innocuous as run his middle and ring finger along the console of the TARDIS, which he'd explained preferred she/her pronouns and was deeply sentient, and all you could think of was sucking on them until you choked and his hand was soaked with your spit.
He'd walk past you, closer than his usual two feet of separation, and you couldn't resist but inhale the air because there was something distinctly staticky, earthy, downright divine about the way he smelled, something you wanted to huff like a dog.
The first time you'd closed your eyes and turned your head to the Doctor, nose leaning forward just a little towards his back so you could get one more good sniff, Jenny Flint had given you a look. And then Vastra gave you a look.
They might as well have called you a whore in capital letters, with no words and lots of love. You thought it was very kind of them to not point out your degeneracy to the Doctor.
“Sometimes I feel scared, being alone with him.” You'd whispered to Jenny, in the hope of finding an ally in your attraction to an alien. “I feel like he'll do a single thing and I'll simply…jump him. And then he'll toss me out of the TARDIS.”
“Ma'am, I hardly think you're going to corrupt him—” Jenny laughed in your face, sobering up at her wife’s sharp gaze, a reminder that she was supposed to be posing.
“Jenny is correct. The Doctor is old, he has seen things. This current version of him is rather…displeased, with most things. He—”
“I knowww.” You bemoaned before Vastra could finish talking. “He's so old and so cross and his eyes are always glaring and God help me, I want him in ways that would make a Victorian man faint.” You flopped onto a chaise lounge, scrubbing your face with your hands.
“If you would like us to leave you alone with your thoughts, you only need to say so.” Jenny said, smirking at you, Vatra chuckling alongside her.
“Oh, shut it, both of you.” You grumbled, suffocating yourself with a pillow.
“Miss, the Doctor has informed me that he would like your company aboard the TARDIS.”
“Ooh.” Jenny called out as you scampered out of the room, flipping them the bird and packing yourself into the TARDIS.
The Doctor turned to you, frowning. His eyes flew all over your face, which was presumably red, the mussed appearance of your hair, and the general huffy air you were carrying, before turning back to the console.
“Right. 4-X-Alpha-4, home to the Movellans, beautiful star system—haven’t been there in a while. What do you think about making a trip?” He asked, pulling levers and flicking switches.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose as you bounced up the steps to land yourself in the jump seat.
“What is it with you and your dullness?” The Doctor grumbled, tugging back his sleeves to yank on a particularly heavy lever.
“What's that supposed to mean?” You scowled in offense. You were exhausted by all the excitement of the past few days, your eyes too tired to keep themselves away from the Doctor's hands.
“It means you never have any ideas! You and that dull mind, you never say ‘Oh I want to see this’ you just go wherever I take you! Sometimes I wonder why you even bothered to come aboard.” He waved his hands around as he spoke, his worn skin stretched over thick knuckles and wrinkled by time, though they were yet to lose their dexterity.
“Mainly because you're hot.” The words flew out on autopilot, your eyes still stuck on how neat he kept his nails.
It was only after the beat of complete silence in the room that you realised what you'd said. Your eyes shot up to the Doctor's face, only to find him already looking at you. His eyes were narrowed, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.
“-ty. You're hotty. Haughty. Y'know. The word that means arrogant and proud. I thought since you're so haughty, you probably have something impressive to show me.”
It was a bad cover. An awful one. Though, with the way the Doctor’s lips twitched into a smirk, you thought you may get away with it. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your seat, hoping he would let it slide instead of making it a thing.
“I'm not a stupid old man, you know.” The Doctor said, voice low and curling like smoke. He clicked a button on his screwdriver, and after a 3 second whirr you felt your chair move of its own accord—flying towards the Doctor until you were close enough to have his knee touch yours.
“...I didn't say you were. I said you were an arrog—”
“Your pupils dilate when you look at me, your attention span drops by thirty seven percent when I roll up my sleeves, your heart beats so loudly for no apparent reason at times that I can hear it, and of course, the sniffing. Did you really think I didn't notice? I simply chose to say nothing.” There was no mockery or disdain when he looked down at you, silver curls gleaming from the light of the TARDIS. His eyes had softened, the curve of his brows gentler than usual even though there was a teasing smirk playing there. Your heart beat impossibly loud—you knew he could hear it now—and you figured if you were to be let down gently, you might as well make a thing out of it.
“Because you're so awful and evil and would ruin me?” You asked, staring at him defiantly as warmth swept over your face. Ignoring your question entirely, the Doctor rested his palms on the arm rest of your chair.
“And, of course, there's the touchiness at the concept of fathers. Do I remind you of him? Is that it?” He leaned in a bit more, voice dropping a few decibels.
“No.” You said resolutely, straightening your back, an action that simply pushed your face closer to the Doctor's. “You're nothing like him. You could never be like him.” Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the appendage followed by the aged, kind eyes of the time lord.
“You didn't answer my question.” You whispered, nostrils flaring as the staticky scent of him filled your lungs.
“No, I don't think I'm evil. I am only an idiot with a box.”
Your eyes fluttered as he rested his other palm on the free arm rest, caging you in—not that he needed to, ever, you'd let him put you on a leash and bark if he wanted it, all of your own free will—his breath warm on your face.
He was so close it made you physically tremble—not in nervousness, no, it was the sheer vibration of being so close to the man you wanted yet holding it together because you weren't sure if he was actually going to do anything or just leave you blue-balled.
“Having said that, I do get rather cross when my people decide they're done with me.”
He didn't mean that. You knew he didn't mean that. He got sad, maybe, jealous, sure, at the prospect of his companions leaving, but never angry.
That didn't mean it wasn't an incredibly hot thing to hear. He knew that, you think, he knew exactly what that sentence would do to you and he said it anyways.
“Yes si—”
“I don't like being called ‘sir’.” He practically growled, and even with your eyes closed you could imagine his expression perfectly.
“Yes, Doctor.”
As if the words were some psychic key, finally, finally, the Doctor crashed his lips onto yours, palm wrapping around the back of your neck. He dragged you out of the chair, pushing you up against the console and pressing his body up to yours. He kissed like he was starving, tongue invading your mouth and fucking it with an intensity that barely let you catch up.
The second you let out a soft whimper, fingers digging into his arms, the Doctor combed one hand over your forehead, sweeping your hair back and tilting your head to face up so he could kiss you more comfortably.
He was strong, stronger than he looked, picking you up and hoisting you onto the console with ease. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, sliding forward until you could press every contour of your bodies together.
The TARDIS let out an angry whirr, the lever you were sitting on launching up with enough force to throw you off the console. Thankfully, the Doctor caught you, holding you up with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
“I think she's encouraging us to move our business elsewhere.” The Doctor said, eyeing her.
“As long as I get fucked into the mattress I really don't care.” You mumbled, taking the opportunity to press your face into his neck and inhaling. You moaned out loud, nuzzling his skin as if rubbing against it enough would let you absorb into it.
“Oh you're a right little whore, aren't you?” The roll of his tongue around the word ‘whore’ sent shivers down your spine. You bit your tongue in a bid to silence your moan, but couldn't really keep your thighs from flexing around his hips.
“So that's why you're not nearly as sensitive as the others to my rudeness.” The Doctor chuckled against your mouth, sliding his lips down your neck.
“So you admit you're rude?” You chuckled, leaning forward to bravely nip at his ear. The graze of your teeth against his skin drew a groan out of him, and he squeezed your ass firmly, once, before dumping you onto something soft.
“You’re the one quivering from me calling you a whore.” The Doctor purred, pairing the words with a squeeze to your thigh.
Blinking and looking around, you realised you were in what must've been the Doctor's room. The walls had Gallifreyan patterns and words etched into them, there were shelves lining every wall and books spilling out of them, and the upholstery and bedding was a lovely TARDIS blue.
While you were busy studying your surroundings, the Doctor had paused, kneeling at the edge of the bed, between your legs.
“Are you sure about this?” He asked, licking his lips while he looked at you. A smidge of hesitation had crept onto his face, and it made you feel even more of a pervert, like you were about to take advantage of an innocent old man.
You knew that couldn't be farther from the truth, but it was still hot to think about.
Your eyes roved over his form, down the loose tshirt he was wearing and settling on the bulge in his trousers.
“Yes. I'm sure, Doctor. I'm always sure with you, about everything.” You softened your voice, looking at him with all the yearning your heart could muster without actually bursting into tears.
“Now, please.” You whined, raising yourself up on your elbows so you could reach one hand out, sliding it over his thigh and to the very edge of the bulge.
“Please what?” The Doctor asked, hesitation sliding off his face to make room for that smug look again.
You made a displeased noise in the back of your throat, sitting up more fully to drag your palm across his crotch, digging the heel of it into his bulge.
The Doctor didn't move, didn't react save for closing his eyes and exhaling. He stayed completely still, even when your hand started toying with the button of his trousers, even when it tugged the waistband of it down to nestle just below his hard cock, trapped in his pants.
“Please?” You tried again, leaning forward to nuzzle his soft tummy, before pressing a kiss to it.
“I'm not doing anything until you tell me what it is you want.” The Doctor insisted, shifting his knee ever so slightly to become more comfortable.
You figured if he could tease, so could you.
Dragging your mouth down his stomach, leaving a slick trail behind, you paused at the hem of his trousers, tugging them down until he was just in his pants. You practically purred at the sight, his hard cock tenting the fabric. You licked your lips, leaning forward to bury your face in his crotch, nuzzling his cock through his pants and breathing in the musky scent. It was even headier than the rest of him, making your eyes roll back. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the bulge, moaning when the taste of him soaked through your tongue.
“What a little degenerate." The Doctor said, affection dripping from each syllable. Finally, he moved, but only to snake his hand into your hair.
“Only for you, Doctor.” You groaned against him, rolling your hips against thin air when your words made his cock twitch. You could get off sucking his cock, you thought.
“Doctor, please fuck me.” You licked your lips, tilting your face to look up at him with half-lidded eyes.
He sighed deeply, sliding his hand from your hair to your cheek, lingering there for a second before making its way further down, over your neck, your chest, and finally, to the hem of your jumper.
“Well, if you ask me like that.” The Doctor murmured, tugging the soft fabric up and off you. He sighed reverently, tracing the path his hand took earlier, except this time it was over your bare skin. His hand slipped behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before cupping one of your tits. He brushed his thumb over the nipple until it pebbled, before letting it down gently and tugging at the waistband of your sweatpants.
“How come I'm the only shirtless one?” You smirked at him, leaning back to raise your hips off the bed. Before you could shimmy the offending garment off yourself, the Doctor tugged your sweats off your legs and tossed them in the corner with the rest of your clothing, before grabbing the hem of his own tshirt and taking it off.
“If I start barking I'll need you to forgive me.” You whispered, sliding a hand up his side and to his chest.
“Oh I doubt you'll be doing much of anything besides screaming very soon.” The Doctor said, silver curls bouncing as he got off the bed to take his trousers and pants off the rest of the way.
Now fully nude, both of you took a moment to simply look at each other, the lights dimming until it was just bright enough to see the silhouettes and faces of each other.
“How would you like to do this?” The Doctor asked, stepping closer to kneel on the bed again, hard cock bobbing between his legs. You bit your lip hungrily looking at it, knowing that if you were to part your thighs they would be wet and slick, but not nearly as much as your pussy.
“I—” You paused, suddenly flushing a bright red. You weren't sure why you were so embarrassed—the Doctor was clearly not perturbed by anything you'd done so far—but the realisation that it was actually happening felt like jumping out of a plane.
You weren't sure if you had a parachute yet.
“C'mon.” The Doctor cupped your cheek, leaning in to kiss you softly. His other hand sneaked between your legs, cupping your wet pussy for a moment before he flicked your clit.
“Ah—” You gasped, before parting your lips from his to confess your desire.
“On my hands and knees. Please.” You said softly, feeling your face grow even hotter when he chuckled.
“Oh, so you want to be taken like a bitch in heat, is that it?” The words were so violently provocative and unfamiliar coming from him that they made you clench around nothing, your mouth falling open in a pant even though you'd done nothing except get naked.
With a swift move, you were suddenly on your front, scrambling to get on all fours as a worn hand tangled in your hair.
“My question. You didn't answer it.” The Doctor purrs in your ear, leaning over you until he could nuzzle your ear.
“Yes.” You whined, high and needy.
“Yes what?”
You made a rueful noise, warmth settling over your body as a garment of your embarrassment and arousal.
“Yes, I want you to take me like a bitch in heat.” You licked your lips, the hesitation resting on them knocked clean off by a moan when you felt the Doctor push into you, slow and even. He was big, big enough for you to feel the stretch and know you would be sore the next day, but you were so incredibly wet that it didn't matter.
He wrapped an arm around your hips, holding you close as his hips bumped into your ass, his cock fully sheathed inside you with a wet squelch that betrayed how desperate you were for him. You arched your back, keening as you felt him press against your spongy walls, grind into the grooves of them.
“Good?” He asked after a few seconds, and you found yourself smiling fondly. Even when he was playing at being ‘mean’ he couldn't help but check in.
“I would be, if you stopped being so nice.” You breathed out, wiggling your ass to entice him.
“Oh, I'd be careful what I wished for if I was you, sweetheart,” The Doctor purred in your ear, pulling out of your sopping wet pussy before thrusting in sharply, a far cry from the gentle push mere minutes ago.
“Fuck—” You gasped, slouching as much as he would allow you to do you could bury your face in a pillow, screaming into it when the Doctor set a cruel pace, fucking into you with noisy, wet slaps.
“Yeah, you like that, don't you? Bet your brain is all empty, not a single thought floating about.” He used his grip on your hair to pull your face up from the pillow, letting your moans echo in the spacious room.
“Let me hear how much you enjoy getting fucked by a mean old man.” He growled, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp thrust that you were pretty sure slammed right into your cervix. Your walls spasmed around him every time the head of his cock bumped into the sensitive spot, and you whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
He fucked you with far more strength than he should've had in his current regeneration, hoisting you up so your back was pressed against his chest. You let your head loll back onto his shoulder, opening your mouth when he turned to kiss you.
Or at least, you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, he bullied the middle and ring fingers of his free hand into your mouth, pushing until he felt your throat spasm around the tips of them.
“That's it,” The Doctor murmured, fucking your mouth lazily with his fingers, the pace a complete mismatch with the rhythm of his cock carving out a space for itself inside you. He pushed his fingers in deep all of a sudden, making you gag around them.
“If you can't even take my fingers, how will you ever take my cock, hm?” He hummed in your ear, stroking your tongue with the pads of his fingers. A stray tear made its way down your cheek, earning a mean chuckle. “Oh, is that what you'll do? Cry? Soak my cock in your tears and spit?”
You gasped wetly when he pulled his fingers out, spit rolling down your chin as the Doctor took his fingers and circled your clit, slow and firm.
“Doctor,” You wheezed, grinding into his palm. He hooked a finger on the hood of your clit, pulling it back before using his other finger to tap the exposed bundle of nerves.
You cried out, hands flying to his wrist—not to stop him, simply to ground yourself—as he kept going, gently brushing over the sensitive spot. It was almost too much, the feeling of his calloused finger on your exposed clit.
“Oh, what a pretty little thing,” The Doctor crooned, accent rolling thick off his tongue, sounding far too composed compared to your melting state, “You humans are always so sensitive.” He leaned in, kissing his way from your shoulder to your neck before kissing the space right behind your ear. Heat bloomed from where his lips touched your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“You're pathetic,” He growled when more tears streamed down your face, overwhelmed as you were, his thrusts growing slightly erratic. “You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you, hm?”
“Yesyesyesyes—please, Doctor—anything, anything—” You sobbed his name, heat coiling sharp and dangerous in your abdomen.
“What a dangerous thing to say to a man like me.” At that moment, his cock did something inside you—you weren't sure what, exactly.
A scalding ball of heat kissed at your cervix with every thrust, as if the sun itself was coming out of the Doctor's slit. Whatever use of your legs you had, it rendered them immobile, spreading from your pussy to the rest of you like lightning.
With a howl, your pussy spasmed around him, your vision whiting out with the force of your orgasm.
The way you were moving pushed the Doctor over the edge, too, his hips stuttering as he came. He kept fucking you through it, the sounds coming out of his throat almost feral as he forced his own cum into you, again and again, as his cock refused to stop pumping.
By the time the Doctor finished, you were completely spent. The moment he let you go, you slid face-first into the bed, feeling copious amounts of cum leaking out of your pussy and down your legs. It soiled the sheets, paired with your own sweat and cum, and you sighed happily, letting your eyes grow unfocussed.
“No need to fret, you can't get pregnant.” The Doctor cooed, appearing beside you with a rag in his hands. You had no idea when he left to begin with, let alone how long it had been, since the Doctor was now clothed.
“Mm…did the Time Lords have a breeding kink or something? There's just…so much.” You grumbled, raising your head from the sheets and wiping the drool off your face as the Doctor carefully wiped down your legs, before dipping the cloth towards your pussy.
“Most of them had a deeply utilitarian view of sex. It was purely for procreation.”
“...so you just tried to breed me, is what I'm hearing.” You smirked, flopping onto your side. The Doctor raised a brow at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you up.
“I just said that it's biologically impossible.”
“Mm, that's why I said ‘tried’.” You giggled, tired, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He sighed witheringly, but pushed you towards the toilet nonetheless.
By the time you were done peeing, the TARDIS had procured your favourite pajamas from your room and placed them onto the bed. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, but that wasn't really an issue because all you had to do was pout at the Doctor and he was there, helping you into your clothes.
“So um.” You started, mind already brimming with possibilities as the two of you curled up in bed together. “I thought you weren't a cuddler?” You said instead of the obscene fantasies your mind was cooking.
“Yes, well, it's better than letting you have an endorphin crash.” The Doctor grumbled, hand curling around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You pressed your nose to his neck, sighing as his presence surrounded you fully.
“You're a softie.” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
“And you're a bratty slut, but I don't go around telling you that, do I?” His hand scratched at the base of your neck, slowly lulling you into a drowsy state.
“You should, though. I'd be into it.”
“You'd be into anything.” The Doctor snaps, “I could gag you with your own knickers and flog your cunt for an hour straight and you'd let me.”
The idea sent a bolt of pleasure up your spine, and you nuzzled into him.
“Is that such a crime? That I'm into you?” You asked, unable to see his face since the TARDIS had taken the liberty to darken the room to pitch black.
“...you're giving me a lot of power. As I said, agreeing to anything is a very dangerous thing with a man like myself. I made you cry tonight.” His voice was more morose now, little of that pretend-grouchiness in it.
“And I want you to do it again, and next time I want you to make me cry so much I'm at risk for death by dehydration.” You chuckled, nuzzling him, before your voice softened. “I know whatever you'll do, you'll never put me in danger. I also know that if I tell you to stop, you will. So how can it possibly be dangerous?”
He sighed again, leaning in to kiss your forehead in lieu of a verbal reply. He trailed his lips from your forehead to your eyelid, your nose, and then to your lips. He kissed you, sweet and slow, rubbing soft circles on your back until you fell asleep, lips still pressed against his.
