༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

@nenynra -Duff being so lovey dovey with the reader, it sounds embarassing, but he does it 'cause reader was having a bad day:)

𝕊𝕌𝕄𝕄𝔸ℝ𝕐: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢—𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠. 𝙳𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔—𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝙽’ 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜’ 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

You weren’t having a bad day.

You were having a fucking awful day.

The kind of day where everything went wrong in ways you didn’t even think were possible. Spilled coffee, missed calls, that weird tension in your chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how many deep breaths you took. The kind of day where, by the time you made it home, you weren’t even sure if you were angry or just tired of being a person.

You were still sitting on the couch, curled up in your hoodie, staring at the wall when Duff walked in.

He took one look at you and sighed. “Shit, babe. That bad?”

You didn’t even answer—just let out a low, tired groan and let your head drop back against the cushions.

Duff smirked. “That bad, huh?”

You shot him a half-hearted glare. “Don’t mock me. I’ll cry.”

His smirk softened into something else. Something quieter. “Yeah?”

You nodded miserably. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything after that—just kicked off his boots and plopped down on the couch beside you. And, because Duff wasn’t the type to let you sit in your misery alone, he immediately stretched his arm over the back of the couch and tugged you into his side.

“C’mere.”

You let yourself fall against him, head resting on his shoulder, his warmth seeping into your skin. He smelled like leather and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke—comforting in a way you didn’t have words for.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy, wasn’t awkward—it was just there, settling between you like an old song you both knew the words to.

After a while, Duff exhaled, rubbing slow circles into your back. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

You shrugged against him. “Not really.”

“That bad?”

You nodded.

He was quiet for a second, then: “Wanna hear a story?”

You huffed out a small, tired laugh. “Is this gonna be some deep, profound Duff-ism?”

“Nah,” he murmured, grinning. “Just a stupid story.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Go for it.”

Duff adjusted slightly, getting comfortable, his fingers still tracing absentminded patterns against your arm. “Alright. So, 1987. We’re on tour, right? And everything’s fucking chaos. Like, pure shitshow levels of chaos. Izzy’s missing, Slash is already drunk, Axl’s threatening to kill someone—I don’t even remember who, just someone.”

You snorted. “So, a normal day?”

“Basically.” Duff chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m having the worst fucking day. Just—hungover, exhausted, done with everyone’s bullshit. And then, right before we go on stage, I trip over my own fucking bass cable and wipe out in front of like, ten people.”

“Oh my God.”

“No, wait, it gets worse,” he groaned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “So, I hit the ground hard. Like, fully ate shit. And I swear to God, right as I’m lying there, questioning all my life choices, fucking Axl leans over me and goes, ‘Wow. That’s embarrassing.’”

You were full-on laughing now, covering your face with your hands. “No way.”

“I wish I was making that up.” Duff grinned, pulling your hands away so he could see your face. “Anyway, my point is—some days just fucking suck. And sometimes, all you can do is eat shit and get back up.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were still smiling. “So, the lesson here is…?”

“The lesson,” Duff murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed your forehead, “is that even on the worst days, you’re still my girl. And that means I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened. Not in the heavy, miserable way it had all day—but in the warm, stupid, I love this man so much it’s annoying kind of way.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

Duff grinned. “I know.”

And for the first time all day, you felt okay.

Day 26: Overstimulation

A/n: I am trying to finish all the days before November, they will come, I may not sleep but they will be finished

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, squirting, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

Duff loved taking his time with you, forcing multiple orgasms out of you before he came, often overstimulating the both of you.

He was laying between your legs on the bed, your thighs twitching and clamping down on his head. His long fingers were buried deep in you while his tongue swirled around your puffy, swollen clit.

He hummed against you, hips bucking into the sheets that soaked up his pre-cum. “Jus’one more.” He mumbled, words slurring and his eyes drooping.

Your hands clutched his hair, tugging on it. You couldn’t even think to listen to him, only focused on his tongue and fingers as he pulled another from you.

You felt it building, that familiar knot heating up until it snapped, though it felt different and when you looked down at Duff his face was scrunched, liquid dripping down his nose, cheeks and chin.

He wiped his face and licked your juices off of his hand.

He looked up at you, a new fire in his eyes as he sat up, cum dripping from his tip. He pulled you closer, sinking into you with ease and setting a harsh pace immediately, searching to see you squirting again, this time around his cock.

You could barely stay conscious, Duff on the other hand had lost control, mind going numb as he chased that feeling again. All you were was a mumbling mess under him, aching with pleasure.

Duff was sniffling in your ear, cock pulsing painfully in you. “Just-just do that, please… again, I wanna see it again…” He was by no means a small man, but he always seemed so small with you.

He was twitching in you, dragging against your gummy walls. He was so close, so close it hurt but he wouldn’t let himself go until you came again.

His hand went down to rub your clit, making you squirm and squeal until you were squirting on him again, drenching the sheets and his stomach while he coated your walls in a thick layer of his cum.

He was panting right in your ear, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight to him while he slowly collapsed onto you, burying his face in your chest.

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wtchzmbie

1 week ago

i love when we call old rockstars grandma, never gonna be unfunny to me

༞༞𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 '𝚗' 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎༞

Duff was tied down in a seedy hotel room off Sunset, the kind of place where the wallpaper peeled like old scabs and the bed squeaked with every shallow breath he took. His wrists were bound to the headboard with the red patent leather belt you’d taken off with theatrical flair—like it was a show. Because to Duff, everything was a show. The eyeliner. The swagger. The slouch. But not now. Now he wasn’t cool. He was yours.

“Y’know, baby,” you said, cigarette dangling from your lips as you straddled his hips like a throne, “there’s a very specific kind of idiot that thinks being a bad boy makes him a man.”

You took a drag, exhaled slow smoke into his open mouth, and smiled as he swallowed it like he was starving for your air. His pupils were blown wide, hair stuck to his forehead, chest flushed a desperate rose-pink.

“But lucky for you,” you continued, brushing the ash off onto the nightstand without looking, “I like my idiots on a leash.”

“Mommy,” he whined—whined, not said, whined—his voice high and cracked, like he was seconds from sobbing. “Please. I’ll be good. I swear, I’ll be so fucking good.”

You reached down, gripped his chin hard between your fingers, tilted his head up like you were inspecting a broken thing in a pawn shop. “Oh, I know you will. ’Cause here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna sit on that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna thank me for it like it’s a goddamn Grammy. And if I feel one tooth?”

You leaned in, close enough he could taste your lipstick.

“I bite back.”

Duff moaned like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. The veins in his neck popped like guitar strings straining for release. His cock—long, red, leaking down the shaft like a faucet with no off switch—twitched helplessly against his stomach.

“You think I like tying you up ’cause it’s cute?” you asked, sliding your nails down his chest, leaving trails like claw marks. “No, sweetheart. I tie you up ’cause if I didn’t, you’d fuck yourself stupid before I even touched you.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, breath shaking like a downed amp in a thunderstorm. “I—God, I wanna come so bad, Mommy, I’m gonna fuckin’ cry.”

You grinned, wicked and mean.

“Then cry.”

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wtchzmbie

2 weeks ago

YES LIKE WHY YOU HAVE TO BE NICE AND THEN SO MEAN W MY MOM CMON