Your best friend calls, voice raw, and you realize he’s jerking off to you. The call spirals into a dirty, tense back-and-forth—him confessing all the nasty things he wants to do to you, you teasing between sweet and cruel, letting him see just enough to break him. He cums hard for you, then you make him listen while you play with yourself and orgasm. At the very end, you drop the sweetest bomb—and hang up, leaving him ruined, obsessed, and wanting more.
★2,827 words, old story, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), lots of dirty talk, masturbation, praise & a tiny bit of degradation, pet name/name calling (e.g, ma/mama, baby, sweetheart, honey¹, and slut¹), you're a little mean but he likes it, etc★
★18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕★
"Hello?" you call, picking up on the third ring. The room is quiet, the only light the coming from your amber lamp and the blue glow from your screen reflecting off your freshly done nails.
"H-hey," his voice scrapes out on the other end. It’s a wrecked sound—ragged, breathless, and vibrating with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
Your brows pull tight, a slow worry already beginning to tug at your lips. "Are you okay? You sound... off."
You picture him for a second. Maybe he’s sweaty from a run, his chest heaving under a thin t-shirt. Or maybe he’s been lugging another Amazon dresser for that old lady down the block—always the good guy, always helping somebody. But as you listen to the heavy, rhythmic hitch in his breathing, you realize you’re wrong.
Right now, your best friend is laid out on his bed, the sheets a mess beneath him. His sweatpants and boxers are shoved down to his mid-thighs, his brown skin damp and glowing in the dim light of his room. His stomach is corded, muscles tightening and rippling with every long, desperate drag of his fist. His dick is a dark, heavy weight in his hand—slick, flushed, and dripping through his fingers.
He’s slowly but firmly stroking himself to the thought—and now the sweet, taunting sound—of your voice. Precum is already smeared over his knuckles, his thumb rolling lazy over his slit before pressing harder, coaxing a deep, guttural grunt from his throat.
"Mgh—nothing. Just... talk to me," he rasps, the friction of his hand audible through the speaker.
Your frown deepens, your heart is starting to race. "Why? What’s wrong, baby?"
The pet name slips out easy, unthinking. But the effect is immediate—he moans low, a broken, helpless sound, like you’d reached through the line and wrapped your hand around him yourself. He lives for when your voice turns soft like this, when you stop clowning him and get sweet. His fist moves quicker now, his hips pushing up into his palm, seeking the friction he can’t get enough of.
"I'm fine, I promise. Just keep talking. Please."
You fall quiet for a beat, leaning back against your headboard. You listen harder. You hear the wet, squelching sounds of his grip. The sharp little hitches of breath. The low, animalistic sound he makes when his fist squeezes tighter at the base.
And it clicks.
"...You’re jerking off."
Silence. Just the heavy, frantic sound of his breathing. Then a broken, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah. M'sorry. Can’t stop. Not when it’s you."
Your breath stutters, a prickle of heat blooming low in your belly. "You’re getting off to me? On the damn phone?"
"Every time," he admits, his voice rough and needy, but with a sudden edge of raw honesty. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel the weight of it. "Think about you all the time. That mouth. Those tits. The way your ass looks in those shorts." His pace picks up, the slick, lewd sounds of his hand working his dick filling the line. "Fuck, I’d do anything to see you ride me, just once. Just to see what that look on your face is like when I’m deep inside you."
You bite your lip, your pulse kicking against your throat. "That’s disgusting. Using my voice to get your nut. You’re nasty."
He groans like you’ve just blessed him with a touch. "Yeah, I know. But you're all I think about... you’re the only thing that gets me this hard."
"That's nice, honey. But you really shouldn't think of me like that... you know we're just friends," you murmur, your own hand sliding down to rest heavy on your thigh, the silk of your shorts cool against your palm.
"Don’t say that." His tone cuts sharp now, all the nice playfulness you've come to love is gone. "I’m not your fucking friend. You call me every day. You tell me you love me. I told you from the start—I’m not your friend." His breath hitches, the wet sounds of his fist speeding up, becoming more frantic. "You let me talk to you like this. And you let me—You let me be in your life knowing how I feel about you."
Your acrylic nail drags slow across your bottom lip. "Maybe. But I can't give you what you want, and I do love you, but don't throw it in my face," you drawl, a cruel, satisfied smirk pulling at your mouth.
"It’s kinda sad. Stroking your dick to a girl you’ll never have. We'll never be together. I’ll never let you fuck me. All you get is your hand."
He chokes out a moan, his hips snapping up into his fist with a raw, mechanical rhythm. "Yeah? Then give me something else. Show me. Facetime me, ma. Please."
You hesitate, the heat pooling heavy and agonizing between your thighs. Then, you click over.
The screen flickers to life. His camera is shaking, his breath filling the dark room. Sweat beads at his temples, his face flushed a deep, beautiful bronze, his lips parted. You know that tremor in the camera—it’s the force of his fist moving fast.
"Thank you," he exhales, the word almost reverent as he takes in your appearance.
"Hi, baby. Let me see your face," you don't ask it like a question. You order it.
He obeys instantly. His face fills the screen, his jaw tight and corded, his sharp fade a bit messy from the heat and the friction.
"You look good," you compliment, but the little laugh that follows makes it sting.
"Keep talking." He’s close, you can hear the strain in his voice. "Don't stop."
"I want to see."
He blinks, his eyes glazed and dark. "What?"
"I'm not repeating myself."
He lets out a breathless, desperate laugh, knowing your patience is thin. "Take your shirt off then. Let me see what I'm working for."
You narrow your eyes at the audacity, but you reach down and tug the pajama top off anyway. Your lace bra catches the light, the fabric straining against the fullness of your breasts. You don’t cover yourself; he’s seen you in less, and you want him to see exactly what he’s missing.
"Fuck," he groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain. He flips the camera.
Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry. His dick is a complete mess—his fist is working tight and fast, the dark, veined length of him glistening with pre-cum. White streaks of cum are already dried tacky over his thighs from previous rounds, and his stomach is flexing with every pull. His abs are glistening, his skin slick with sweat. His thumb smears a fresh bead of precum over the flushed, velvet head until it gleams, dripping onto his knuckles.
You bite your lip hard, heat twisting through your belly, your shorts already sticking damp between your thighs.
His moan rips through the line, a guttural, animal sound.
You whisper his name, your voice low, trembling, and possessive. "... I really want you in my mouth."
His head snaps back against the pillow, a broken curse ripped from his lungs. "If I had you here? I’d fuck that throat till you cried. Till you gagged around me and begged for air. I’d hold your head and make you take every fucking inch."
You hum, a low, taunting vibration. "You’re not tough enough for that."
That pulls a dark, dangerous laugh from him. His hand works faster, the veins straining down his forearm. "Say that shit again. I’d hold your face down and shove my dick so deep you’ll feel me in your chest. I’ll make you swallow every drop."
Your thighs squeeze together, wetness soaking through the crotch of your shorts. "All talk. You’d fold the second it touched my tongue."
He groans, deep and pained. "God, you drive me fucking insane." His breath stutters, then—"Take your bra off for me. Now."
You tilt your head, slow and teasing. "You want a show?"
"Take it off." His voice is rough, a plea threaded with a hard command.
You hook your fingers into the lace, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it fall. Your breasts sit full and heavy in the camera’s glow, your nipples tight and peaked in the cool air.
He chokes on his own breath. "God, look at you. Perfect. Fucking perfect."
Your fingers lift, tugging lightly at one nipple, rolling it between your fingers. "Like this, baby?"
His hand drags hard down his dick, the slick sound of it filling your ears. "Yeah—play with them for me. Pinch ‘em. Roll ‘em." His eyes roll back for a second, his mouth slack. "Fuck—I wanna cum all over those tits. Paint you, watch it drip down your stomach. You’d look so good messy with my cum."
You coo, your voice dirty and soft. "Yeah, baby? You wanna ruin me like that? Wanna cover me ‘cause I’m yours?" You pinch harder, moaning low. "Mmh, I’d let you do it however you want."
His hips jerk up into his fist, his cock flushed dark, thick, and veined. The head is shiny with slick, and your eyes stay locked on it, transfixed by the weight of him in his palm.
You whisper, almost reverent. "I can’t stop watching your hands. They're so big and veiny. So strong. You're twitching in your grip—look at you, baby. All that for me."
He groans raggedly, his fist slapping wetly down the length of his shaft. "All for you. Always for you." His voice cracks, desperate. "Squeeze 'em, touch your tits harder. Let me see you play with those pretty nipples."
You squeeze your breast, pinch your nipple harder, tugging it until you gasp, your eyes locked on his fist pumping. The sound of it—wet, obscene, skin slapping skin—is the only thing in the world.
"Fuck," he grits out, his voice frayed. "I’d drag you down and smear every drop over you. I wanna fill you up."
You laugh softly, mean but sweet. "Yeah? You’d mark me up? Cover me so everybody knows this pussy’s yours? Even though you’ll never get to fuck it?"
He groans, almost breaking under the weight of the tease. "Stop—don’t say that. I’d fuck you stupid, ma. I’d split you open. Make you cry for me."
You hum, stroking your breast with slow, deliberate circles. "I bet you would. But right now? All you’ve got is your hand. And me watching."
His grip tightens, his strokes becoming rough and fast. His stomach flexes, his breath tearing ragged from his chest. You lean close to the screen, your voice low and syrup-thick.
"Cum for me, baby."
He moans, a high, guttural sound.
"Yeah," you coax, squeeze your breast, shifting them again, "make a mess for me. Let me see you shoot it all over yourself. Come on. Show me how much you want me."
"Fuck—" His hips stutter up into his fist. Precum spills slick down his shaft, his knuckles shiny and wet.
"Begging you, sweetheart," you whisper, cruel and filthy. "Paint yourself for me. Cover that stomach, those big hands—show me what I do to you."
He chokes, his eyes squeezing shut, his jaw locked tight as his body begins to coil for the release. "M’close—oh fuck, I’m gonna—"
"Do it," you purr, sharp and commanding. "Cum for me, baby. Now."
His whole body jerks. A shout rips from his throat, raw and primal, as thick, hot ropes of cum spill over his hand, his chest, dripping down his stomach in heavy white streaks. He pumps through the release, groaning brokenly, the cum splattering messy and hot across his skin.
You sigh, watching the way it looks against his skin, your voice turning sweet again. "That’s it. Good boy. Look at that dick, dripping for me. You made such a mess."
He’s panting, ruined, his hand still twitching around his softening length. "Fuck... fuck, I love you."
You tilt the camera, watching him still sprawled—sweat dripping, stomach streaked with cum, hand twitching.
"Mmh," you hum, soft and wicked, "look what you did, baby. Got me all wet."
His head snaps up, eyes heavy but blazing. "Show me."
You smirk, slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, dragging the damp fabric aside. Glossy, honey-thick strings pull as you spread yourself open, the phone angled just enough to flash him a glimpse of your soaking wet center. "See that? All for you."
He groans, his chest heaving. "Touch it for me. Play with yourself—please, ma."
Your laugh is low and cruel. "Not a chance. You already got your show."
His jaw tightens, his voice rough. "Don't play with me. You don't let me watch, I'll make you beg next time. I'll make you sorry."
You lean close to the screen, your smirk sharp and triumphant. "Try me. You don't scare me, baby. I said no."
His fist curls against his stomach, frustration pouring through the camera. "Then... at least—fuck—at least let me listen. Please. Let me hear it."
You bite your lip, dragging your fingers slow through your slickness, making yourself whimper. "You’re nasty."
"Yeah," he rasps, desperate. "For you. Only for you."
You sigh, soft and sweet, pressing two fingers against your clit until your hips twitch. "Fine. You can listen. But that’s it. Just your ears."
Your moans slip out, low and syrupy, filling the line. His breath shudders at the sound, ruined but hungry again. Your fingers circle your clit, the wet, squelching sounds of your own pleasure bleeding into the line. You bite your lip, letting a whimper slip, knowing he’s eating every sound alive.
"That’s it," he rasps, his voice still raw from cumming. "Rub that pretty pussy for me. God, I wanna be there so bad—wanna hold your thighs open and eat you till you’re crying."
Your head tips back, your breath shaky. "Mghn—You talk so nasty, baby."
"You don’t even know," he grits out. "I’d spread you out and pound that pussy till you scream. I’d fuck you till you smell like me. I'd never let you leave the bed."
A moan rips out of you, high and breathless. Your fingers circle faster, your hips rolling up off the bed as the tension coils.
"You like that?" he groans. "Knowing how bad I want you? Tell me you’ll give it up one day. Tell me I’ll get to fuck you for real."
Your laugh cuts sharp and shaky. "N-No, baby. You’ll never have me like that."
He curses, a guttural sound of frustration. "Fuck. You’re killing me, ma."
Your moans rise, sharper now, your body coiling tight. "Keep talking. Don't stop."
He obeys, his voice a low, gravelly anchor. "I’d hold your hips down. Spit in your mouth while I fuck you raw. Fill you up and make you go for hours."
That does it—your back arches, your thighs clenching tight as your orgasm rips through you. A sharp cry tears from your throat, your fingers working frantically over your clit as waves of pleasure slam through your body. You gasp his name, shuddering and trembling, your juices dripping messy against your hand.
He groans raggedly, listening to the sound of your break like it’s gospel. "That’s it—fuck, that’s it. Cum for me. Good girl. Good fucking girl."
You collapse back, chest heaving, sweat dampening your skin. You let out a low, satisfied hum. "Oh, shit... see what you did? You made me cum, handsome."
His breath hitches on the other end, broken and reverent. "...I’d do anything to see that."
Your breathing slows, your chest still rising and falling heavy. Your fingers slip from your soaked folds, leaving a wet sheen on your thighs. The line is quiet except for the sound of you both catching your breath.
He’s the first to break it, his voice ragged. "Man... I swear, one day—"
You cut him off with a sweet, dismissive little laugh, curling back into your pillow and pulling the covers up. "Shh. Don’t start again."
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with the things he wants to say. You can feel the ache in his voice, how close he is to spilling confessions you aren't ready to hear. So you give him something else. Something cruel, but honest.
"Thank you," you murmur, soft and sweet. Almost tender. "I love you so much, baby."
The phone goes quiet. You can picture him—eyes wide, lips parted, his heart clenching around those words. You know exactly what you’ve done to him.
You smile to yourself, curling the blanket over your bare chest. "Good night."
And you hang up before he can even find his voice to answer.
don't worry I am finishing the other ychs!! they will be finished this week
what's allowed:
-any species
-any body shape
-any gender
-minor adjustments, facial expression change
what's not allowed:
-to be shy
dm me!
Don't forget to ask any questions!!
if you want regular in-game Gideon in his sick drip and with all the scars - +15eur
One thing to point out, I am pretty slow to draw nowadays, because I go to work with my mom to help her. So I end up being exhausted. So if you have a strict deadline - please let me know, I'll try my best to meet it. If you don't - I will take a bit of time
