›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

her  hand  lingers  on  his  chest  longer  than  it  should.  like  she’s  not  sure  whether  she’s  holding  him  BACK  or  holding  him  UP.  the  heat  beneath  her  palm  is  blistering,  not  from  his  rage,  no...she’s  felt  that  before,  watched  it  shatter  men  like  glass.  it's  something  older,  deeper  —  that  relentless  ache  between  them  that  never  stops,  only  roots  and  blooms  stronger  than  the  last  time.  there's  nothing  made  of  coldness  in  her  eyes,  they  never  are  with  him  and  maybe  that's  part  of  why  she's  letting  it  all  CRUSH  her.  they’re  tired,  though.  tired  in  that  bone-deep  way  that  comes  from  years  of  standing  just  outside  the  life  she  maybe  could’ve  had  by  some  shift  of  luck.  but  that's  not  made  for  people  like  her,  rewards  for  unforgivable  deeds.  ❛  no...  fuck,  i  don't  know!  ❜

and  there  it  is.  that  band  hitting  the  dim  lighting  just  enough  to  coax  every  bit  of  guilt  eating  her  from  the  inside  out  to  the  surface.  gloria  stares,  choking  down  penance  and  letting  the  barbed  wire  cut  into  her  throat.  the  worst  part  was  that  it  never  stopped  her.  not  once.  she  pulls  her  hand  back,  cradling  it  like  a  third-degree  burn  against  her  chest.  a  step  back,  but  it  doesn't  matter  how  far  she  goes,  he'll  always  HAUNT  her  and  she'll  always  let  him.  ❛  i  don't  know  what  to  do,  you're  not  mine.  ❜  the  fight  in  her  voice  is  gone,  and  what's  left  is  so  much  worse.  a  quiet  devastation,  worn  thin  at  the  edges.  trembled  in  dewy  honey  eyes,  her  arms  thrown  up  with  a  defeat  she  can't  escape.  she  could  imagine  it  as  some  surge  of  fading  adrenaline,  from  de-escalating  impending  dread.  from  the  even  more  fucked  up  part  of  her  that  wanted  frank  to  pummel  that  handsy  fuck  into  the  dirt.  but  it's  so  much  more  than  that.  ❛  i  don't  do  it  to  hurt  you.  ❜  almost  a  plea,  entirely  mournful.  ❛  i  have  to  remind  myself  that  there's  a  world  outside  of  you,  frank,  cause  if  i  don't,  i'll  keep  drowning  in  you.  ❜

anger   doesn't   just   simmer   inside   him,   it   boils   over   —    violent,   clawing   at   his   chest   like   something   alive.    one   minute   he's   nursing   a   drink   with   the   squad,   laughter   buzzing   around   him.    the   next,   he   spots   the   brunette   locked   in   some   stranger's   orbit,   their bodies too close.    he   watches   the   guy's   hand   slide   from   her   arm   to   the   curve   of   her   waist,   and   something   in   him   snaps.    now,   he’s   the   center   of   gravity   —   surrounded   by   too   many   eyes,   all   waiting   for   the   kind   of   show   that   starts   with   a   punch   and   ends   with   smears of blood on the asphalt.   it   doesn't   come   to   that,   thanks   to   gloria.

palm   pressed   to   his   chest,   he   tears   his   gaze   from   the   man   walking   away   and   leans   back   against   the   wall,   shaking   his   head   like   it   might   clear   the   heat   rising   in   his   throat.    the words are there,   coiled   tight,   but   they   won’t   come   out — not   when   she’s   looking   at   him   like   that,   not   with   the   weight   of   the   ring   on   his   finger.    “    what   do   you   mean   i   can't?    what   the   hell   do   you   want   me   to   do,   gloria?   you   want   me   to   sit   back   and   smile   while   he   has   his   hands   all   over   you?.     ”    right   now,   he   wishes   the   other   guy   would've   swung   at   him.    it would've given him a   reason   to   let   the   poison   out,   to   crack   his   knuckles   on   his   skull   and   stake   his   claim   on   her,   somehow.    “    why   do   you   always   gotta   do   that   shit   in   front   of   me.     ”    the   anger’s   still   there,   but   it’s   dulled   now — muted   by   something   heavier.    that   quiet,   bitter   frustration   he   saves   for   himself.    the   kind   he’s   been   carrying   too   long, the kind that keeps him up at night with the thought of her.

LOCATION  BASED  SMUT  PROMPTS

TRANSPORATION 

one muse gives the other oral while they drive. 

driver uses one hand to finger the other while on a long road trip.

muses join mile high club in an airplane restroom.

in an airplane one muse has to be quiet while the other muse plays with them in their seats.

muses tease each other in the back of a taxi cab on the way home. 

while driving home after a date,  they get too impatient and pull into a parking lot to have sex. 

while driving in the middle of a forest,  our muses pull onto the side of the road for sex. 

our muses are on a road trip but a thick fog forces them to take a break.  they have sex inside the car while waiting for it to clear. 

while at the drive in theater,  muses participate in foreplay. 

while at the drive in theater,  muses forego watching the movie to have sex. 

revenge sex in someone else’s car. 

sex in someone else’s car due to impatience and carelessness. 

a quickie while parallel parked on a busy road. 

in an empty train car while freighthopping. 

in a crowded bus,  one muse sitting in the others lap purposefully and subtly grinding to get them worked up. 

in a private jet,  on the way to a business trip. 

in a private jet,  on the way to a vacation spot. 

one muse masturbates while the other drives. 

driver instructs the passenger to touch themselves through guided masturbation. 

while one muse drives,  they describe what they want to do to the passenger who isn’t allowed to touch themselves. 

NATURE

sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic. 

one muse holding the other up against a tree. 

in a cabin in the middle of a rainstorm late at night. 

in a cabin in the middle of a heavy snowstorm during the day. 

in the bed of a truck in front of hiking trails. 

in the bed of a truck while stargazing. 

a plateau overlooking the ocean on a cloudy day. 

one muse has been napping in a hammock and the other wakes them by beginning to finger them. 

muses get distracted from sunbathing and start to fool around by a poolside or lake. 

inside a gazebo while it rains. 

a little ways off from a hiking trail,  hidden by thick foliage. 

mutual masturbation while camping in a tent. 

beneath the shade of trees in the middle of an orchard. 

between rows in a vineyard. 

hidden away in the dead end of a hedge maze. 

PUBLIC

in a bar or restaurant,  one muse sneaks under table to eat out the other. 

in a bar or restaurant,  muses discuss in detail what they’re going to do to each other once they get home. 

inside the stall of restroom in a bar. 

inside a single bathroom of a place of service (restaurant,  store,  club etc.)

in a hotel room,  up against the window overlooking a busy city.

a quickie in a diner restroom before getting back on the road. 

up on a rooftop where no one is supposed to be. 

inside one muses’s office. 

inside a third party’s office they shouldn’t have access to. 

inside an empty church on a weekday. 

one muse fondling the other while they’re trying to shop. 

foreplay and teasing in the dressing room of a store. 

oral performed while hidden in a storage room or closet. 

inside an abandoned house. 

hushed sex while staying in the guest room of another’s home. 

in the middle of a park late at night. 

PRIVATE

on the floor,  in front of the fireplace to warm up after coming inside from winter storm. 

one muse on the bathroom counter while the other stands. 

in front of the bathroom mirror so they can watch themselves. 

to break in a new house or apartment,  boxes scattered about and furniture newly placed. 

bent over a table while something bakes in the oven. 

on the kitchen counter with half-eaten plates of breakfast forgotten. 

one muse spread out across the top of a grand piano,  pretty woman style. 

rushed and desperate,  messy on the couch because they were too impatient to even make it to the bedroom. 

one muse riding the other while the tv plays in the background,  movie forgotten entirely. 

on the balcony in early morning,  where neighbors might see,  but no one will likely look. 

Gloria’s preference for older lovers has never come from a weird insecurity or lack of personal relationships…it’s competency, it’s leadership, it’s attraction to someone with life experience and that scratches the intellectual brain and becomes sensual.

❛ you are my salvation. ❜ price @muutos

she  wants  to  be  his  salvation,  wants  it  in  a  way  that  terrifies  her  enough  to  believe  him.  it’s  not  flattery,  it’s  not  sweet—it's  the  weight  of  meaning  because  john  price  doesn't  utter  a  single  syllable  he  doesn't  stand  behind.  it  lands  in  her  chest  like  a  round  at  close  range,  and  for  a  second,  all  she  can  do  is  feel  it:  the  honesty  of  it,  the  need  of  it.  fingers  pressed  into  the  hard  edge  of  his  chest,  sliding  up  the  column  of  his  throat  like  she’s  checking  if  he’s  real,  if  he’s  still  warm  under  her  palm.  he  is,  off  course  he  is.  a  man  always  burning,  always  ready  to  fight  someone  else's  war.  the  perfect  soldier,  the  selfless  leader,  giving  until  there's  nothing  left  and  still  never  staying  down.

she  leans  in,  her  forehead  pressing  into  the  curve  of  his  temple,  mouth  a  whisper  over  his  own.  her  frame  straddled  his  lap,  as  if  by  miracle,  she  could  ground  him  there.  ❛  john.  ❜  like  she's  something  soft  and  not  buried  beneath  devouring  violence,  like  she  wasn't  haunted  in  every  step  she  took.  how  could  gloria  deny  him  that  refuge?  she  wants  to  say  it’s  too  much,  that  salvation  is  too  big  a  word  for  what  she  can  give  but,  it  doesn't  change  a  long-standing  truth.  at  doesn't  change  the  fact  that  he's  her  salvation,  too.  bloodstained,  battle-worn,  but  hers.  ❛  i'll  be  anything  for  you.  ❜  her  teeth  tug  at  his  bottom  lip,  testing  reverence  with  a  flick  of  her  tongue.  it's  almost  cruel,  the  way  her  words  tremble  against  him,  how  her  nails  trace  his  jaw.  ❛  but  i  need  you  to  take.  i  need  you  to  be  selfish,  i  need  you  to  want  this  more  than  you  decided  on  your  own  grave.  ❜

her  jaw  tightens  with  the  kind  of  tension  that  comes  from  holding  too  much  in.  too  much  blood,  too  much  memory,  too  much  of  that  awful,  helpless  ache  that  comes  when  it’s  a  kid  on  the  table  and  the  universe  dares  to  keep  spinning.

at  the  sound  of  mel's  voice,  she  turns  to  face  her.  there’s  always  the  undertone  of  something  haunted  in  her  gaze,  but  it  doesn’t  waver.  not,  when  the  junior  staff  are  looking  at  her  like  she’s  supposed  to  make  it  make  sense.

❛  yes,  doctor  king,  please,  ask.  ❜

Mel doesn't like this. She doesn't like when it's kids; she doesn't like when there are parents, and siblings, just a few steps away.

Eyes daring between Dr. Robby's still frame and the boy on the gurney, Mel wonders what's keeping their boss from sharing a few words of guidance. Whether it's a reassurance or next steps, she'd like to hear it.

But Robby remains silent.

"Uh, Dr. De Lima," Mel tilts her head to the hallway. "Can I ask a question?"

Nikita Gill, from Your Heart is the Sea: Poems; "The Anguish," originally published in 2018

she  isn't  someone  who  flusters  easily.  could  withstand  the  force  of  a  thousand  storms  and  still  hold  her  ground  against  the  CARNAGE  AND  CHAOS.  ❛  i've  got  a  hundred  thrown-out  speeches  i  almost  said  to  you.  ❜  she's  at  a  loss  here,  in  over  her  head  and  overthinking  because  it's  not  as  simple  as  locking  into  task  or  mission.  her  heart  wears  too  close  to  her  sleeve  and  clawing  its  way  into  his  hands. 

lyrical sc// @pittmade

                        𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘔𝘌𝘕, 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘎𝘖𝘋𝘚, 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘉𝘙𝘜𝘡3𝘙.

❛  you  can't  let  other  peoples  opinions  get  in  the  way  of  what  you  want  especially  because  other  people  suck.  ❜

holt & diaz quote starters // @jennifershepard