for that phone sex promt from a few days ago, hear me out-
puppy diluc getting needy and calling you to hear your voice -🌙 (im alive, but school is a special kind of hell)
This was from forever ago and I do not remember the phone sex prompt but- it has been so long since I've posted about puppy Luc. I have missed him dearly.
nsfw !!! diluc x gn!reader
phone sex??? kind of, only diluc is getting off, mentions of breeding, mentions of puppy!diluc
Phone calls from Diluc when the two of you are separated are not at all a rarity. The red-head makes a point to call daily, especially at night. Your heart clenches whenever his name flashes across your screen during the late hours; you know he grows lonely in his house—in his bed—so you make it an effort to respond, let him stay on call so he can sleep better.
Usually, the first thing you hear through the speaker is his steady voice, asking if you’re busy, ensuring he isn’t interrupting anything important, but sometimes he is on a mission. Sometimes, when he calls, it is for your attention—your undivided attention—and he skips greetings and his normal inquiries and goes right for what he wants.
You can’t help but be worried for him, when you pick up the phone and hear nothing from his side.
“Diluc?” A beat passes, and you speak again. “Honey?”
From the other side, there’s a rustle—he must have brought the phone closer to his face—and suddenly you can hear him breathing, and you understand. His breaths are quick, pant-like, and wet sounding, as if he’d been crying, or close to.
“Sweet boy,” you murmur, and he whimpers into the phone. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been trying,” he starts, voice shrinking into a whine. “I need to come.”
You hum, listening for any telltale signs of him getting off. Last time this happened, you could hear it, slick and wet while he passed his fist over his cock over and over again. He had spoken endlessly, then, rambling a mess of things he craved, things he needed to do to you. You didn’t have to speak much that time, his own voice and the knowledge that you were listening enough to bring him to his end. He had so much to say, his voice going on, shaky and whimpered, through his orgasm.
There is no filthy squelch, so you press for an answer, asking “What are you doing?”
“The pillow, I’m using the pillow.” He goes quiet for a moment, surely trying to piece together things to say through the fog in his brain. “Smells like you.”
He must have woke up not long ago; only when he is still partly asleep does he go for grinding against a pillow instead of using his hand or a toy.
Something hot sweeps low in your gut at that, and you suddenly wish you’d set up video calls instead of phone calls—you'd have him show when you get back, so you can brush your hand against his hair, play with his sensitive ears, watch his hips push forward into the plush of the pillow, whisper low praises into his ear.
“You’ve been gone for days,” he informs you, as if you’re unaware. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” you promise him, “I’ll be home in no time, and you can have me however you want.”
He garbled out a quiet “fuck,” and you can’t help but grin.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Your voice lowers, taking on that tone that makes his pupils expand with need. “I bet you do, don’t you? I can’t wait to have you breed me when I get back.”
It’s insanity, the way the mere mention of breeding gets him going. You knew he was close, but his voice gets all high at your words, and you know he must be seconds away.
“Ah- I need-” You can imagine it clear as day, the way his movements start to grow hurried, the flex of his muscles as he rubs his leaking cock against the pillow. He must be a mess, fabric beneath him growing damp with the precum that steadily forms at the tip—his face will grow hot when he realizes what he did, a pretty blush dancing across his cheeks when he sees the splatter.
He doesn’t care, though, not now when it feels so good and his orgasm is cresting. It’s beautiful, even over the phone, with audio and the visuals in your mind. You can hear the way his breathing breaks off, catching in his throat while euphoria floods his system. His hips twitch, small movements to work himself through the feeling; you speak sweet praise through the phone while you listen for his breathing to catch up and even out.
These surprise calls make your heart grow fond, affection taking root and growing like an oak tree within your ribcage. You should expect another, relatively soon, in the middle of the night, where you both work each other to sleepy, quiet orgasms.
