#it looks fuckin rad

[mangokabuto]

time for content catered SPECIFICALLY ONLY TO ME ✧٩( •̀ ᗜ•́ )و✧

MONSTER COLLEGE AU. YEAH. I fucking love Monsters At School.

Starting with Luffy and Nami! Luffy is a 1st year, Nami is a 2nd year. Students are encouraged to stay in human disguise and not to tell each other what they are (as some monster species used to eat each other and whatnot).

#my art #monster college au #MUAHAHAHA IM CRINGE BUT IM FREE #artistic nudity #or semi-nudity rly #more to come probably! zoro and usopp r next #zoro is about to look fuckin INSANE. SO RAD.

[devilishdelights]

official ref for my MC yeah boiiiii

They/them, 23 or smth, queer, insane, pathetic loser that tries 2 be cool, would kill for little D No.2

ohh and the crow is karasu. Ik he’s not a real bird in game but to me he’s REAL!!! He’s just the mascot for their DDD’s….! And is best friends with my MC. Also like the hc that mammon sends his crows to watch over MC when he’s not there, and consequently my MC now has multiple crow buddies. They would also die for them.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obm #obm!swd #obey me fanart #obey me shall we date #my art #obey me mc #obey me mc fanart #mc reference #oc reference #my oc #just realized I didn’t flip the casual’s canvas before finishing. bruh moment. their hair is the right way on the left one #but honestly idc it can work either way #also I’m soooo proud of the rad uniform. do u see that emblem???? bro I DID that. the most complicated shit ever. #don’t look 2 closely tho… don’t put logic 2 the uniform. #vibes only #I just fuckin realized the UNIFORM is backwards too. if ppl tell u to flip ur canvas DONT or else u fuck everything up like me #anyway #devilishdelights

[clericofshadows]

one day I'll update Ashley's armory, but when I do, Ashley will also get the terminus set! so, if you have EDI's armory and Kaidan's armory installed, along with Shepard's version of the armor, you'll end up with lots of fun matching opportunities :D

#mass effect #ashley williams #i love matching armors and matching squadmates #my armory series is just self-indulgent love and it's great! #cleric's modding stuff #i might tone down the pink some but also it looks fuckin rad in the render so i might keep it

[meat-wentz]

one of the worst parts about most elder emos i’ve known irl is that they consistently talk about how kids just won’t “get” bands like fall out boy or my chemical romance and like what fucking world are you living in where teens today won’t understand bands who rose up during the first major spike of fame culture, whose privacy and artistry were constantly invaded and twisted around to be something they were not, who rose up in a scene that was misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, and racist, whose original messaging got lost to aesthetics and mainstream misrepresentation, who consistently fought capitalistic corporate entities for their own artistic integrity and identity to be preserved, who saw the rise of immediacy and accessibility of the internet be turned against them and who felt more isolated the more their lives became available for consumption, and who WROTE AND SANG ABOUT THOSE VERY THINGS, like despite the fact that their primary audience in the aughts were teenagers and they have retained that audience for two decades, literally what world are you living in where kids today wouldn’t understand?????

#like i have had people my age say this to my face and it’s always bewildering like hello what the fuck are you talking about #and what messaging are YOU getting from this music lmao #i also say this as someone in their late twenties #ALSO you know what’s cool!!!! #is that teenagers today get to experience these bands after so much healing #i think it’s fuckin rad to see teens listen to music and to look up to musicians in their 40s+ #i think it’s fuckin rad that teens get to see aging in relation to joy and happiness and love #like ohhhhh my god some of y’all sound like such goobers #mcr #my chemical romance #fob #fall out boy #text

[unknownarmageddon]

you should look up the movie man the picture for it is banger as hell

o7 right away boss

#answering asks #anon asks #update holy shit??? #/pos #might actually try to watch this is looks fuckin rad

[universalcaffination]

I have a confession

My first introduction to scotty was through the tng relics episode, where he has a cool as grey/white mustache and hair and looks super distinctive

So when I went to was tos for the first time I literally thought he was just some dude until he started speaking and I was so surprised

#i feel bad calling scotty a generic bitch in tos visually #but that mustache is so fuckin rad i was preemptively looking for a character with one ig

[doodlboy]

I am screaming and jumping up and down and doing a little dance inside of my head rn!

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #that was so fucking pretty and for what!!!!!! #as a spiderman enjoyer i am very happy we get such a rad movie to watch #pavitr was so cute!!!! w his bangles and shit that was such a cool way to interpret his web slinging omh #and miles!!!! he's gotten so big and he's so fuckin strong emotionally. hes so goddamn smart too!! #miguel was there [distain but i found him handsome] #he's i like his pointy teeth but he's such a dick!!!! #AND THE SPOT????? #WHY THE FUCK ARE PPL SLEEPING ON THIS GUY HE'S SO GOOD #rattling the bars of my fucking cage he's so endearing and a terrifyingly cool villain #HOBIEEEEEEEE man i love that guy #his anarchy is a lil silly sometimes and i appreciate that #ALSO ALSO!!!! the disabled spider ppl?????? holy shit thats so fucking cool??? the bit where they make the comedy is a crutch joke was so <3 #and gwen????? her world is so beautiful like holy shit just looking at some of the scenes there made me want 2 cry its so good #jumping up and down rolling on the floor running in circles AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #elliot rambles

[crewofthegoldrush]

pure gold (the best i’ve ever known)

Rating: Mature

Campaign Setting: Eberron: Rising from the Last War / Around Khorvaire in Fifty Days

Premise: The entirety of a dragonborn’s arc with her love interest(s) from her point of view (part 2); this is not a y/n fic

Summary: She makes you wait for it now, glancing at your deputy for the length of a heartbeat, before holding your stare unflinchingly. "You know, they're just masks. Harper, Aubrey; they're just masks. That woman - she was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"But," she continues, her eyes dropping to the whiskey glass in front of her, "if this one comforts you…I think I can make that happen."

[CONTINUE TO CHAPTER ONE]

I had the banner on hand so sure why not

pure gold is [mostly] fully written and will be a total of twelve chapters!

#dnd #dnd fics #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #dragonborn #changling #montbrey #gun cw #i got tired of waiting! this yall problem now! #im hoping to update once a week or every other week - i tend to get impatient so we'll see #i went back and give part 1 a polishing and im confronted with how different these two tones are #there's more focus on monty as much as aubrey in this one that i think was missing from the first one #i think the reason i have this rather jokingly split into parts is there's a noted pandulem swing of going from the npc needing the pc #to the pc needing the npc #i guess we'll see if i succeeded! #ALSO LOOK AT HER OUTLAW LOOKIN ASS GUN!! #SHE LOOKS FUCKIN RAD

[biillys]

future modern au after they've moved back to california etc etc where max is a fucking incredible tattoo artist and billys that 'tattooing myself everyday for a year' guy from tiktok and the shittier the tattoo the more max loses her absolute shit at him

#billy starting that account cos he asked max for a free tattoo and max told him to get fucked #so billy was like. ill do it myself then fuck you #and max was like you cant draw for shit???? good luck lmao #anyway they came to a deal of if billy tattoos himself every single day for a year then max will do the damn sleeve he wants. #max genuinely hoping he wasn't dumb enough to give himself three hundred and sixty five pure shit tattoos in exchange for one decent one #and then the tattoo gun comes in the mail and billys like oh Fuck yeah! day one babey! #max; watching billy spill the ink fucking everywhere then give himself literally the WORST tattoo of the mcdonalds sign: #jesus christ what the Fuck is wrong with you #billy; genuinely pretty fucking pleased with how it turned out considering hes working upsidedown and he didnt bother with a trace: #check it the fuck out shitbird. fuckin rad #max; squinting at the tattoo after having to look away becos she physically Could Not watch: #u realise not even i could fix this right? like its Bad billy #anyway by day 20 max is out of fucks to give and by day 110 shes more stressed about the ink wastage and not billys Fucked Up legs #and by day 160 shes like. actively encouraging him. #and then at the end of the year when she does tattoo his arm like requested shes like #this is fucking shit billy. youre gonna have an entire professionally done sleeve and then the rest of ur body looks. like That. #anyway! would especially love billy to do the 'permannant' tattoo from that guys tiktok cos it made me lol #m #text

[prehistorictriforce]

sometimes i’m like “yeah i’m super chill around celebrities, i don’t really clam up or anything, i’m super normal” and then i remember when i “met” frank iero and im like hmmmm maybe i’m wrong.

#it was a few years ago but like. a friend and i got to a venue i think… like a little over 12 hours early for the show??? #so we were obviously there before the band. but when frank got there it was still only like. my friend and a couple other ppl #(we became good friends w the group we waited with btw!!! we all have a gc on insta and stuff they’re rad!!!!) #(we’re trying to get together to see mcr together!!) #but frank like. comes by and starts asking us how we’re doing and is like hey do y’all need anything and whatever #we said we were fine bc evan had gotten us water n shit #and i was standing next to frank and we were all talking and he was like idk we were looking for food where should we go #and we’re in a totally different state from where i’m from so i’m like??? i don’t fuckin know???? #but this was frank fucking iero i wasn’t gonna admit i didn’t know smthn so i’m like I THINK THERES A GELATO PLACE AROUND HERE #so i just sit there like a god damn buffoon nodding and going yeah yeah yeah absolutely sure yeah!!! to every suggestion #and he kinda looks at me as if i’m gonna say smthn and i just smile all ridiculous and shrug and go ‘sounds good to me’ #there was much more to the conversation but the general gist was everyone else being normal and me being doe eyed dumbass #he was very nice abt it all bless him he was super busy but he came out to check on us a couple more times before it got busy #he was always smiley and happy and giggly abt it and i miss him 💔💔 frank i’m so sorry i was useless i swear i can be better #at least i went HARD during the show. we were all right in front since we were literally first in line lol #anyways. still absolutely one of if not my ultimate fave concert i’ve ever been to #these tags have been long as fuck but this memory plagues me at night

[spectralscathath]

OMG! Yang looks so pretty! And sparkly! And she actually had yellow on her! And I love the color gradient on her emblem and jacket in her Atlas outfit! And the hairstyles are so cool! And-and *squeals* IT’S SO GOOD! ALL OF IT IS SO GOOD!

Thank you very much, I'm really glad that you like the designs! I really wanted to make her look like a character who's fun to be around, I wanted to bring back the brightness and bubbliness, and definitely keep the yellow in her design. Yellow is notoriously difficult to work with so I've spent the past few months taking notes off the pals over at @ironpines for their rwby outfit critiques to try figure out some interesting ways to make it work.

I plan to have a bit of a details view out next week with some design notes, the same way I did for Ruby, but honestly this was a delightful challenge. I took inspiration from Yang's vol2 look and a concept art of her Beacon outfit in black and white, and then, probably kinda obviously, Chun Li's iconic dress for her Vacuo look. Then it basically became a puzzle in linking the two ideas together, while keeping yellow as Yang's focus colour. That bit was a lot easier to do when I put her in black and white with just a smidge of purple, because something something colour theory something something complementary colours.

And yes! Yang gets the sparkles! Yang gets to put her hair up in funky styles! Yang gets the coolest jacket ever in Atlas I'm going to steal it. Those are absolutely my favourite details too, can't travel around and save the world without Lookin Cute, after all! Thank you again!!

#rwby #rwby redesign #yang xiao long #asks #ironpines #the sparkly purple was dual purpose: design continuity and Fuckin Adorable #I don't know anything about street fighter I just know chun li looks rad #don't expect weiss and blake any time soon they're Being Problems #and these big outfit pieces are surprisingly time consuming #but I ended up having fun!

[polygondotcomvideoproducer]

Being really brave about my migraine rn [lie]

#at least I hope it's just a migraine #bc I do also feel just generally shitty in the rest of my body. like I'm a lil weak n shaky. just a lil #which is unfortunate bc I gotta babysit this sick lil ouppy #and I do not mean that she is fuckin rad I mean she is unwell #and I am not looking after her in my own home so I do not have access to ❤️paracetamol❤️ my beloved #I also have more limited access to Little Treats

[fstbmp-a]

"Nice."

#It Is Hopelessness ;; Scourge #The Power In You ;; Scourge (BK Verse) #Into the Sunset ;; Crack #Can You Feel the Sunshine ;; Dash Comm #the isekai scourge looking at the fantasy scourge: that's fuckin' rad you do you buddy

[mrrharper]

Todd opened his eyes, only to see a gym full of sweaty hunks, instead of the dorm room in which he felt asleep, planning for this to be just a quick nap. He underestimated the chances of waking up in a body of a 6'4 240 lbs brute, with biceps the size of footballs, tree trunks for legs and absolutely jacked upper body.

He didn't have time to panic though, because another sweaty jock came up to him. "'ey bro, am finished with my set for now. You too bro?" Todd would later learn that it was TJ, a tight end from his college's football team. But now he was scrambling to come up with a response.

"Uhm, yes... uhh, yeah, I'm finished, yeah." He half-murmured. TJ didin't wait for a response and sat down next to him on the bench, leaning back and spreading his legs wide apart.

"Bruh, I'm so fuckin' pumped bro, it's unreal dude. That new routine Coach gave us is fuckin' rad bro." TJ then proceeded to flex both his arms, hplding them in a double bicep pose for a moment. Todd just nodded and grunted a quick "Yeah, bro." After a few seconds Tj lowered his arms, but not before sniffing one of his armpits.

"Huhuhuh shit bro, i fuckin' reek dude." He then let out a low laugh, so common in dumb football bros. Todd turned to the jock sitting next to him and the smell of musk and sweat hit him like a train, invading his nostrils. The words "Dude, you need a shower" instintively left his mouth. A moment later he realized what he had just said, and hoped the other jock wouldn't react badly.

"Huhuhuh" TJ just chuckled like an idiot "That's the smell of a real man, Strand."

Strand just... no, Todd just sat there, almost paralyzed by the odor that enveloped him. TJ meanwhile stretched his arms, his armpits exposed, and his muscle tee damp. As waves of musk and sweat reached Todd, his head began to hurt. The feelings of repulsion and disgust suddenly started changing into normalcy and relaxation. StrandTodd's posture changed, he leaned back on the bench, with his legs now slightly away form each other.

"Bruh, that's life, am I right dawg?" TJ drawled and a grin appeared on StrandTodd's face. He chuckled and responded "Yeah, bro, that's life bro." When Todd realized that he had just said that, and worse, that he felt comfortable, here with TJ, both of their bodies reeking of sweat, dread... was the opposite of what Strand felt as he relaxed with his bro after a killer session in the gym. His arms were pumped, his pecs burned with pain that was a testament to his dedication to working out.

TJ looked at his bro and grinned. "Ey, Strand bro, you goin' to that beer fest at Alpha Phi?" His bro slapped TJ in the back and said "Huhuhuh bruh, the fuck you're asking me bro. Duh, I'm going. And am taking ya with me dude." The both laughed like the two dumb jocks they were, then took their duffels and left the gym.

#jock #football jock #jock tf #nerd to jock

[tinyspringtrap]

weird random funfact: if you get staples in your organs, they can be seen on both x-ray and (sometimes) ultrasound

it’s apparently very hard to see them on ultrasound, found that out when my tech was getting super excited bc she could see them

#i was getting checked for kidney stones at the time and there were none to be found #on the plus side though it was pretty cool seeing all the medstudents and techs gather around and just 'oooh' at my intestine staples #they asked if they could ofc - I usually say yes bc like. shits interesting yo. look at these fucking staples in my intestines isnt that rad #get urselves a good look at this shit so u too can identify staples in someones intestines #wish i had like an image of it bc that would be pretty fuckin cool #hang it on my wall #'the fuck is this' thats my intestinal staples #'why' cause its rad fuck you #sassy says

[macfrog]

call me

idea came to me in a dream. enjoy also! i made a notifs blog! taglist life is NOT for me, babies. feel free to head on over, follow and turn notifs on to be updated anytime i post! 👉 @macfroglets 👈 you’re gonna wanna do it before this sunday…😉🤠

inspired by @bageldaddy who is the author of the dreamiest series on this site, my biggest crush, and also told me not to tag her but i respect my elders so.

pairing: joel miller x call girl!reader

summary: you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) this fic is pro-sex work. reader is a phone sex operator, mentions of anal and oral, dirty talk, couple mentions of daddy, praise kink, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 3k

main masterlist

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb. “You’re gonna touch yourself.” “That what you want?” “’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

It started out as a joke, if you’re being honest.

A wine-drunk night with Liv, sat at opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined somewhere in the middle of the cushions. Her blouse was stained pink – your fault, apparently, for making her laugh too hard. Her glass tilted a fraction too far and before you knew it, you owed her a new shirt.

“Say it again, say it how he said it,” she snorted, patting her chest down with the damp towel you’d handed her.

“…quite frankly, disappointed with your performance,” your head tilted back and forth, mocking the nasally voice of your fifty-one-year-old, receding-hairline-equipped boss. Ex-boss. Asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” she heaved, still catching her breath. “That’s so fucking funny.”

You sighed in agreement.

“So…what are you actually gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Sell my body.”

“Dare you.”

“I would.”

“I know you would. And you’d be good at it, too. ‘s why I’m telling you to do it.”

You kicked her ankle. “I got bills to pay, dude.”

“What about one of those call girls?”

And, well. That was that.

You’d googled it after seeing her off to her own apartment, watching her wobbly form stagger across the hall and stab her key a few times into the wood before it landed in the lock. The door closed with an accidental slam which echoed up the stone stairwell, and you crept back to your own place.

Palms either side of your laptop on the counter, face lit in a blue glow, dripdripdrip of your busted tap echoing around your dark kitchen. They asked for an email address – you used the one you’d made up before you realized email addresses were permanent – and a phone number. Said someone would call you to discuss it. You shrugged, hit Sign up and went to bed.

Within hours, you’d spoken to some sharp-accented woman who asked quick, snappy questions and uhuhed her way through your answers. Her name was Erica. She told you she’d look after you, told you to call her with any questions or concerns you had.

All she wanted from you were the basics: you liked sex, you masturbated, you knew how to dirty talk. You sorta knew your way around things like anal, and could manage a convincing pitch for things of a more…exploratory nature.

And then she asked when you wanted to start. You told her that night.

Your first caller – like, ever – was some guy with a midwestern accent who asked you to narrate fucking him. Like, spanking him with a paddle, calling him a bad, bad boy. You threw your nerves to the wind and went along with it, and honestly, had a pretty rad time. He was cool.

But one was enough for your first night. You logged out and went to bed. You told Liv the next morning, and she punched your arm a little too hard and yelled, That’s my fuckin’ girl! Was it hot? Did you…y’know?

No. You never get that lucky. Some calls you can lie idly on your couch and let your limp hand surf beneath the hem of your underwear, push lazy circles against your clit as the dude moans in your ear or gasps when you whine.

Sometimes their mics can pick up the faint sound of them jacking off, and your brain slips you an image that makes your stomach flutter. Sometimes you’ll hang up and take yourself the whole nine yards with your laptop sitting on your mattress, porn on the screen, and your vibrator between your open legs.

It’s pretty intense work. Sometimes.

But all in all: no. You never…y’know.

One week in, you were cooking dinner whilst telling Trevor – thirty-nine, Buffalo, New York – how you’d take his huge, throbbing dick in your throat and let him fuck it. He asked to hear how turned on you were, just talking about it. You lowered your phone down to the pot of macaroni and gave it a stir.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned down the line, “you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh?”

Huh.

Tonight, you had pizza rolls. Less sexy.

You just got off another call. Thirty minutes of describing how good you’d take him up your ass. You’re bored, turned off by this point, and tired. It’s almost 3AM.

You pace around your apartment, flicking switches off and tossing cushions back into place. Spilling small sips of wine from your glass onto your tongue as you’re plunged into darkness, one click at a time.

You don’t get much while the sun’s up. Most days, nothing at all. That works for you, though. You can run errands, grab groceries, do sweet-fucking-nothing whilst waiting for the influx of calls that will inevitably come your way by nightfall. When the streetlights come on, the rush hour traffic dies out front, the shuffling of tired feet up the concrete staircase outside your front door slows down – you just log in, and your cell will eventually start to ring.

Your cell, which now lies wedged between the couch cushions. You notice the sound of it vibrating as you’re pulling your curtains closed. Half-way shut, you desert them and wander over. Intrigued.

No Caller ID. The usual. You swipe right. The robotic voice tells you there’s a request on your account for a ten-minute call. Tells you to dial 1 to accept, or hang up.

Ten minutes? At three in the morning?

Usually, at this time of night, they’re longer. They’re drunk, or their partner finally fell asleep, or they just want your attention for a bit. See them through the uncomfortably quiet night.

But ten fucking minutes?

Ten minutes would make you somewhere around thirty-five dollars. They had the option as the timer ran out to extend the call, if they wanted. Most of them did. And that worked fine for you.

You’re unemployed. Who knows what money you’ll have in a week’s time? An extra thirty bucks – probably more – right before bed? A little nightcap?

You dial in and answer the call.

He doesn’t say anything when it connects. You hear the ruffling of clothes.

Your voice naturally dips a couple octaves, coats in something smooth and husky. Glistening, gleaming, sex-driven. “Hello?”

He clears his throat. His voice is deep, rich. More vibration than speech. He speaks with a Southern drawl, like bare skin running over silken sheets. It’s smooth, and sensual, and sexy. “Evenin’.”

You knock the last light switch off with your hip and doddle through to your bedroom. Mornin’, actually. “Hi. What’re you after, baby?”

He takes a beat to reply. More ruffling. He chuckles a little before he says it. “Baby? That what you wanna call me?”

Your glass scrapes softly across your nightstand. You bounce down on your mattress, springs moaning as you roll onto your stomach. Knees bent, your ankles link in the air. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Guess we can figure that one out together.”

“Alright. I like a challenge. You wanna start with your name?”

Another pause. He sucks in a deep breath. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat, thumb picking at your nailbeds. “That’s a sexy name.”

He doesn’t respond. Just gives a non-committal grunt, and a smile pulls across your lips.

“What are you into, Joel?”

He sniffs. “Thought we could figure that out, too.”

Something in the way he says it, the curve in the words, maybe, tells you he knows damn well what he’s into. What he means is: you can figure that out by yourself.

Like you said: you like a fucking challenge.

“You like nicknames? Daddy? That kinda thing?”

A low growl passes his lips. “Not this early on, I don’t.”

You know from the hitch in his voice that he likes it. That little catch at the bottom of his throat, the way the words stumble on their way up. Know you’ve plucked a string deep inside.

“Well, you know you only got ten minutes, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“’kay,” you sing, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You exhale, drawing shapes on the pattern of your bedsheets. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, then? What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Cowboy. It’s the accent. He sounds Texan, or something. His words float through the receiver all wound, coiled up and tight.

Joel doesn’t seem to care. He answers your question truthfully.

“Thinkin’ about what you’re doin’ right now.”

You smirk. Sometimes you like the attention, too. You turn your head, check the clock by your bed. Two minutes have passed.

“I’m…lying in bed, in the dark. Had a couple wines, feelin’ pretty good. But this is all about you, so.”

He chuckles softly. “’m lyin’ in bed, too. In the dark.”

“You feelin’ lonely?”

He takes another deep breath. You figure he does this before he gives most answers. He sounds the contemplative type. Always double, triple checking his sentences before he lets them go.

“Just need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“Okay,” you breathe, “let me. What do you need?”

There’s a long break between the end of your question and the sound he makes before he answers. You pull the phone from your ear and glance at the screen to make sure it’s still connected. Time says another two minutes have passed.

Joel grumbles. It echoes around your ear like thunder in the distance. “You touchin’ yourself?” he eventually asks.

“Uhuh,” you reply, nails picking at a loose thread on your comforter.

“Yeah? How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you mewl, tugging at the seam. Your teeth grit as you yank at it. “So – fucking – good.”

There’s another growl from the other end. It vibrates through your speaker, purrs in your ear.

“You ain’t fuckin’ touchin’ yourself.”

Your hand stops. Your eyes stick on the thread. “I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how.”

You roll your eyes, turning onto your back. Your fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. Fuckin’ – tell me how. “I’m…” you sigh, “…I’m laying in bed, on my back. My hands are –”

“What you wearin’?”

“Isn’t that the sorta stuff you oughta ask when I first pick up?”

He speaks calmer. Clearer. You can hear the smile on his lips. “’m askin’ you now. What you wearin’, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. So he’s that type. Whatever. He’s kind of pissing you off.

“A shirt. And socks. And panties. No bra.”

“’n where you touchin’ yourself?”

You huff. “Between my –”

“Watch the attitude.”

You almost fucking laugh. Your breath escapes your chest in a silent burst. “Between my legs,” you tell him, flat and annoyed.

“Mhm. Above or beneath the panties?”

“Beneath, daddy.”

A tiny groan passes his lips. He doesn’t mean for it to, and a second, angry grumble follows, like he’s pissed at himself for letting it slip.

You take a lock of hair and twirl it around your finger, pulling tight until the tip whitens. “You touching yourself?” you ask, voice sickly sweet.

Joel ignores you. “Take it off. The shirt,” he clarifies, when you don’t answer.

You shuffle around a little, making sure he can hear the movement. You unbutton the shirt until it’s lying loose over your breasts, then tug it down over one shoulder.

“Alright,” you tell him with a heavy breath, laying back on the mattress, “it’s off.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Mhm.”

Joel chuckles under his breath. “Know when you’re lyin’, angel. Take – it – off. Don’t be a brat about it.”

This is half the game for him, you realize. This is his thing. He gives commands, you disobey them, and he kicks you into line. Tells you to behave.

You figure you like it almost as much, going by the heat pooling between your legs.

Your shoulders lift and you tug the shirt over them, tossing it to the floor. You lie back, bare against the sheets, and your hand instantly cups over your breast.

“Better,” Joel breathes.

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb.

“You’re gonna touch yourself.”

“That what you want?”

“’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

You don’t take much more convincing. Your hand slips down your front, cups over your mound. You gasp when your fingertips brush against your clit.

Joel hears. “Yeah,” he hums, “’s a good girl. Take those panties off ‘n rub that pretty little clit for me.”

Your fingertips give one last kiss to the fabric of your panties. Your mouth tips open a fraction. You suck in a quiet breath, and push your hips up off the bed. The lace slips down your thighs in one motion.

Joel’s grunting steadily now, small noises slipping past his lips and into your ear. You spread your legs and push against your bud again, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, and he groans in response.

“I know, I know,” he’s saying, and you hear the metal tinkle of his belt buckle. The fraying sound of denim being shifted. One slow, relief-filled groan.

His hands are on his cock.

You’d put more effort into caring that he’s been fully clothed this entire time, if you could think straight. You’re applying more pressure to your clit, rubbing faster, harder, then letting your fingers drift downward, move between your gleaming folds.

“Wish I was there with you so bad,” Joel purrs, and your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah?” you choke.

“Yeah.”

“What would you – do to me?”

He shudders. “Would fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, fingers circling faster.

There’s a gentle tugging; a rhythmic breathing. The odd break in his voice when his hand tightens, or you make a sweet little sound, or he catches himself giving too much away.

“Fuckin’ – be all over you. Nice ‘n hard. You want that?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, panting. “Want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” Joel says. You can hear the sticky sound of his precum, leaking from his tip and running between his fingers, being pumped down his shaft by his fist. “Feels good, angel, don’t it? When you do what you’re told?”

“Y-eah,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you picture a tight fist choking a thick cock. Picture that same fist unwinding, curving around your mound, fingers pushing deep inside you.

“Joel,” you whimper, and your fingers move down again, dipping nearer your tight, wet hole.

He grunts in response. “Don’t – not yet,” he tells you.

You whine.

“You got somethin’ else to use?” he asks, then interrupts before you can answer. “Yeah, you do. Go get it, sweetheart. Tell me what you got.”

“V-vibrator,” you mumble, hoisting yourself up and lunging across the bed to your nightstand. You haul the drawer open and sift between balled-up socks until you’re clutching the long, thick shape, fingers tight around the dips and curves.

“Let me hear it, angel.”

You click the button and the toy whirrs to life, vibrating strongly in your hand.

Joel hisses. “Alright, sweetheart, lie back. Gonna put it on that pretty little pussy, alright? Gonna make yourself cum for me.”

“Uhuh,” you murmur, one hand lowering the vibrator between your legs, the other holding the phone to your ear in a vice grip.

You push the round tip down to your clit and your head falls back with a loud moan. Joel sends one straight back at the sound of yours. It fades into a whimper, a desperate cry as you massage yourself with your toy.

Your legs clench as you dip it lower, letting the head nudge against your entrance, sending flutters of pleasure across your dripping cunt.

“Don’t fuck yourself,” Joel instructs, and your hand quickly pulls back. “Save it.”

This mystery man, who you’ve known for – if your clock is right – eight minutes, now; whose name is the most information you’ve gotten out of him; and whose face you couldn’t pick in a lineup…has such a hold on you, that your body instinctively reacts to his every word. An automatic reaction to do exactly as he says, when, five minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get him off the phone.

You fucking listen to him. Save it for what? your head asks, and you ignore it. You don’t push the toy any closer to your center.

It drives hard against your clit, fast vibrations rippling down on the hot, swollen skin. It sends floods of warmth between your legs, drawing your arousal slick and wet from between your folds.

Your chest is damp, gleaming with sweat. Your breath cuts short in your throat, guttural noises replacing it as they reverberate through your mouth, across your tongue and into your dark bedroom.

Your walls start to clamp around nothing. You angle the vibrator so that it sends deep pulses across your pussy, shutting your eyes to picture Joel’s thick cock burying deep inside you as you climax with a loud, broken cry.

“Yeah, good girl. That’s it. Sound so pretty, angel. ‘s a good girl.”

You’re whimpering his name as you come down, holding the toy to your clit and letting your high wash over you. Your chest jumps, breaths heavy and staggered, gasping for air and then letting it rush out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“You know how good you are at that?” he asks, when your breath steadies again.

You giggle softly. “’s why I do it, baby.”

“Worth every fuckin’ penny.”

You sit in the post-orgasm haze for a few seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning and your body to feel like yours again. You pull the phone from your sweat-stuck cheek and glance at the time. You have less than thirty seconds left. Joel seems to do the same, for his voice returns to your ear in a gentle, low whisper.

“Alright. Speak soon, angel. Be good.”

The call cuts.

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