Phone sex & Sexting

[justformemes]

the phone sex +
sexting meme

what it says on the tin. leave a blank comment, include your preferences or a starter, it's all good. reply to others with a text, a dirty picture (please link all nsfw things!), misfires, misdials, drunk filthy voicemails, whatever your heart desires.

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[tangerinetides]

[ the day had been spent bent over her map table, long hours slipping away until she'd looked up to find all hint of sunlight banished from her small cabin window. ink stains her fingertips as proof of her labor, and there's an unseen smudge of it across the apple of her right cheek from when she'd brushed a strand of hair away. she unfurls like a night vine creeping to life at dusk, spine cracking from hours of being hunched over her maps.

this is the time of night when she would usually disappear into a warm bath, fingers slipping between her thighs to coax away the stress of the day— mind drifting to dangerous places. now that dangerous place is coming to her, and nami's heart is in her throat. she waits just a beat longer than necessary before calling out to come in, tone light but laced with the tension crawling just beneath her skin.

when the door creaks open, her silhouette is backlit by the soft glow of a lantern, posture casual but gaze razor-sharp and hungry in a way she doesn't usually let herself be. isn't used to being safe enough to be. bright eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate and she thinks yes and want.

the moment he tries to speak, she's there, soft figure pressing up against his, ink-smudged fingers on his lips, silencing whatever stupidly romantic and heartbreakingly earnest words he'd surely offer. She replaced them with a breathless plea, voice low and coaxing, demanding in her need.]

Don't. It doesn't have to be complicated. Just. [ her eyes meet his, blazing with an intensity that burns. fire trails behind her fingers as her free hand slips up the plane of his chest, curls around the nape of his neck, and winds into his hair, tugging him down to her height until their foreheads press together. ] I just want to feel, Sanji. Want to feel good. Can you do that for me? [ he’s so close she can smell the familiar blend of warm spices and woodsmoke clinging to him, and heat begins to pool low in her belly—liquid gold, molten and inevitable. ] Just... be good for me.

[mouton]

[ as he hears her voice from the other side, he steps carefully in, giving a nudge to the door and peering in to find her standing there, his feet now hesitating to move if only to take another movie to gaze her over. the lantern's glow transforms her into something almost angelic, radiant in the light that his heart seems to pick up that persistent pounding pace again, that fiery desire painted around her like a halo. it draws his eyes to her face, as gorgeous as he finds it at every hour of the day, perfection in all of its features, even with the smudge of ink rubbed into her cheek.

he finally inhales a breath, lips parting to speak before her fingers nudge against them, where he can almost taste a hint of that ink right against the softness of her skin. sweet praises from him are placed on pause to listen to her every word, to take in all of her conditions, every request noted with priority. if she asked him for the world in this very moment, somehow he'd find a way to bring together all the seas to place right into her palms. that she asks now for the opposite, for simply this, that's enough too.

as he feels the gentle press of their foreheads, urged by the tuck of her hand to his neck, sanji reaches between them, his own hand larger, fingers thicker with their callouses from heavy use of kitchen tools but clean and well cared for in his preservation of them, as he wraps them over her knuckles, gently taking the hand at his mouth to lightly nudge his head forward, pressing his lips to ink-stained fingertips with a delicate kiss.

it doesn't have to be complicated, she asks, and though the gesture might border on crossing the lines of exactly that, there isn't anything that he asks of her. ]

I can do that. I promise. [ his voice is a gentle whisper, absent of his usual cheerful charm to instead speak with a quiet solemn sincerity. his head offers another tilt, nose caressing nose, lips ghosting a light breath, hot in its exhale, to hers as they hover close, hanging within the brush of a promised kiss. ] I'll be good. And I'll make you feel good tonight, Nami.

[ his other palm rests at the small of her back, warm against the exposed skin just above her shorts, holding her to him as he closes that sliver of remaining distance to bring his mouth to hers, the kiss a soft invitation for her to seek all that she wants from him. ]

[tangerinetides]

[ She takes in the feel of him. His presence warm like firelight, that familiar scent of spice and sea drifting in as he steps closer. His touch over her hand is gentle, reverent.

And those hands—gods, she loves his hands. Not because they’re soft. Because they aren’t. Because even with all that strength, they’ve never struck a soul in anger, not once, not even when she knows he’s had every reason to. Because they knead dough, slice fruit, tend to small wounds and comfort aching hearts. Because he’s chosen to protect them, and somehow, he offers them to her now—his most guarded, most treasured tools—sliding over her skin like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

Well, she's been broken for a long time. If anything, she's afraid those gorgeous hands may catch on a jagged edge. Pull away bleeding.

The kiss he gives her fingers makes her breath catch. Ink and skin and heat. Her heart flutters somewhere deep in her chest, then dives straight between her legs. She tugs him just a little closer by the collar, fingers twisting in fabric like she might float off without him anchoring her.

God, he's beautiful up close.

His lashes fan like shadows over his cheeks. She could look at that face forever. She wants it flushed, mouth open, eyes half-lidded and lost beneath her. She wants to taste her name on his tongue and drink the breath from his lungs.

But they have time. All night.

So for now, she just hums softly against his mouth, tasting the promise in his kiss, letting her lips part to deepen it. Letting him feel the weight of what she wants in the slow drag of her tongue against his. Letting him know that, yes, she wants this too. Wants him. ]

Good boy. [ Nami breathes, smile slow and wicked. Teasing and full of promise. ] Show me.

[And she pulls him back in to a wetter kiss, hot and slick, hand sliding up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair, not letting him go.]