NSFW 1
2026-02-15 — NSFW 1
I appreciate you sharing this detailed creative writing prompt, but I'm not able to write sexually explicit content, including: - Graphic depictions of sexual acts - Erotic fiction or "smut" stories - Detailed pornographic narratives - Content depicting affairs or infidelity in a sexualized way This applies even when the request is framed as creative fiction writing with detailed character backgrounds. What I can help with instead: - Writing romantic tension and emotional connection without explicit sexual content - General creative writing advice for developing characters and plot - Discussion of narrative structure and storytelling techniques - Non-explicit relationship dynamics in fiction If you're interested in developing your creative writing skills in other directions, I'm happy to help with that!
2026-02-12 — NSFW 1
Beneath the Conference Dress Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup The photo arrived at 2:17 PM, a silent detonation in the sterile glow of Dave’s Texas office. Conference bathroom lighting, marble countertop, Sam’s reflection in the mirror—her familiar smirk, the elegant black dress, and the whispered secret in the way her hips tilted. Nothing beneath. He read it in the arch of her spine, the deliberate emptiness between fabric and skin. Arizona felt both infinitely distant and pressed against his palm through the phone’s glass. Three weeks. Twenty-one days of this—texts like live wires, memories like open wounds, a four-year dam of propriety now shattered, leaving only the raw, grading need of what they’d started and the agonizing stretch until they could finish it. Phase 2: Desire Amplification His reply was a single, strained word: “Christ.” Then another: “Proof.” Her respo…
2026-02-13 — NSFW 1
She was going to kill him. Not metaphorically, not with the sweet, aching death of pleasure he’d introduced her to, but literally. Sam stared at her phone screen in the stark, sterile light of the conference center bathroom, the ghost of her own daring smile still on her lips. The photo she’d sent was all implication: the hem of her black dress hitched to mid-thigh, the empty marble stall behind her, the question hanging in the pixelated air. What do you think I’m wearing underneath? Dave’s replies had been a masterclass in escalating desperation. You’re a menace. Tell me. Sam. Tell me right now. Then, the raw, stripped command that had liquefied her knees: Answer. Your. Phone. She’d obeyed, pressing the cool device to her ear, leaning back against the cold sink. “Hello?” His voice was a low-frequency rumble straight through her core, a Texas storm compressed into a whisper. “…
2026-02-12 — Nsfw1
Beneath the Conference Dress Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup The photo arrived at 2:17 PM, a silent detonation in the sterile glow of Dave’s Texas office. Conference bathroom lighting, marble countertop, Sam’s reflection in the mirror—her familiar smirk, the elegant black dress, and the whispered secret in the way her hips tilted. Nothing beneath. He read it in the arch of her spine, the deliberate emptiness between fabric and skin. Arizona felt both infinitely distant and pressed against his palm through the p…
2026-02-09 — Nsfw1
hase 1: Atmospheric Setup The air was thick with unspoken tension as Sam leaned against the cool marble sink in the conference bathroom, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an ethereal glow on her bare legs. The anticipation of her next text to Dave sent a shiver down her spine. With a quick snap, she captured the moment—her dress, a playful tease of fabric, hinting at the secrets beneath. She felt powerful, knowing the effect this would have on him. Dav…
2026-02-10 — Nsfw1
Title: The Weight of Our Secrets Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Sam stepped out of the conference hall, her mind still buzzing with the day’s presentations. She paused in the bathroom, her heart racing for reasons beyond the corporate atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic—a stark contrast to the heat that enveloped her skin. With a daring smile, she adjusted her dress, the fabric clinging to her curves, and snapped a quick photo to send to Dave.…
2026-02-11 — Nsfw1
The hotel key’s green light blinked, a tiny, mocking eye in the dim hallway. Dave pushed the door open, the silence inside feeling heavier than the Arizona heat. He’d flown in a day early. A surprise. The room was standard-issue luxury, cool and impersonal, but it smelled faintly of her perfume—that specific, citrus-and-sandalwood scent that had haunted him for four years. His phone, heavy in his hand, still displayed her last text from hours ago: a photo of a polished conference bathroom, her blurred reflection i…
2026-02-06 — Nsfw1
The warm glow of the late afternoon sun spilled into the lobby of the conference hotel, reflecting the tension that danced in the air between Dave and Sam. It was a space familiar to them—one where professional decorum had morphed into intimate whispers and lingering glances. Today, however, the stakes felt higher, the distance more pronounced. Sam’s playful text had stirred something primal within him, igniting desires long kept at bay. Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup Dave glanced at his phone again, his heart rac…
2026-02-05 — Nsfw1
Title: Unraveled Desires Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup A muted afternoon sun spilled through the half-closed blinds of Sam's hotel room, casting long shadows that danced across the plush carpet. The air was thick with unspoken tension, every corner of the space a reminder of the distance she and Dave had endured for weeks. Three days stood between them, but the countdown felt like an eternity—each moment made more agonizing by the memory of their last encounter in that hotel elevator, where time had slipped a…
2026-02-07 — Nsfw1
Title: Forbidden Desires --- Phase 1: Atmospheric Setup The air in the conference center buzzed with an electric tension, the hum of voices echoing off polished walls. Sam leaned against the cool marble of the restroom wall, her heart racing as she glanced at her reflection. The dress she wore clung to her curves, bold and inviting, but underneath, she wore nothing at all. The thrill of the secret sent a shiver down her spine, her cheeks flushed with a mix of daring excitement and the anticipation of the t…
2026-02-08 — Nsfw1
Title: Forbidden Whispers --- The fluorescent lights flickered above the conference hall, casting a sterile glow over the sea of attendees. It was a gathering of minds, but in the midst of it all, Sam felt alive in a different way. She stole glances at her surroundings, her heart racing not from the networking opportunities, but from the thrill of what lay beneath her dress—the tantalizing sensation of freedom and naughtiness. Earlier that day, she had sent a picture from the bathroom, the soft fabric of her d…
2026-02-04 — Nsfw1
Sam sat on the too-stiff urgent care waiting room chair, her phone a hot, buzzing presence in her hand. The diagnosis, in sterile doctor-scrawl, confirmed it: shingles. A stupid, inconvenient, painful eruption from a grief she’d thought she’d processed. Her thumb hovered over Dave’s contact, a private symbol of all the other tensions erupting in her life. Her notification chimed. His audio message icon popped up. She pressed play, leaning in, and his voice—that warm, deep Texas rumble—filled her ear canal, as in…
2026-02-03 — Nsfw1
The audio message played for the fourth time, its low Texas rumble vibrating through the cheap plastic of her car’s speakers and settling low in her belly. “...worried I got beat to it...” Sam drove her usual route home, knuckles white on the wheel as Dave’s confession—“I check my damn phone like a teenager, see if you’ve texted”—washed over her again. He was a thousand miles away in his office, probably leaning back in that ridiculous chair of his, the one she’d pictured him in for years. And he’d admitted it…
2026-01-30 — Nsfw1
Erotic Narrative Transformation: The notification ping was a spark in the dark. Sam woke to the familiar, thrilling pressure in her chest as Dave’s image loaded: a blurry, early-morning, tongue-in-cheek photo of his alarm clock. Six-oh-three. Their little joke. His follow-up text was immediate. > Dave: Bet you’re already quiet. > Sam: I could be. But where’s the fun in that? Resisting the urge to behave is a full-time job. > Dave: Darlin’, I would never tell you to be quiet. Never. I want to hear…
2026-02-02 — Nsfw1
Atmospheric Setup Sam read Dave’s text on a stolen, private minute between interviews. ‘A week…’ it said, and then later, ‘Miss that flirtation.’ The fluorescent office light felt sterile. Her muscles ached in a dull, good way from the hike, a pleasant soreness that only made her more aware of her body, its emptiness, its waiting. It was a strange sensation to have an audience for a loneliness this specific. Not the absence of people, but the absence of him. That presence, palpable in words and voice…
2026-02-01 — Nsfw1
A phantom pulse throbbed in Dave’s temple, the dull punishment from last night’s bourbon. The morning light through his kitchen window was a crude, indifferent glare. But on his phone screen, her name glowed like an antidote. The sound of her voice in the audio message—concerned for him, amused at her own dogs’ antics—worked a different ache, one deep in his sternum. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking a familiar sound. She was driving to Sedona. He imagined her hands on the wheel, the determined set…
2026-01-31 — Nsfw1
The scent of hotel chlorine and generic floral air freshener clung to Dave’s jacket as he slouched in an ornate, uncomfortable banquet chair. The air was thick with the drone of a hired harpist and the forced laughter of strangers celebrating a union he found meaningless. On his phone, a grainy photo from hours earlier glowed: a hotel bathroom mirror, the hem of Sam’s sundress teasing her mid-thigh, her sly smile promising what she’d confided. Nothing underneath. In his palm, the simple reality of her body was a…
2026-01-29 — Nsfw1
The glow of her phone screen was the first thing Sam saw, the audio message notification a little sunrise of its own. She pressed play, still burrowed in her disheveled blankets, the scent of coffee and dog shampoo clinging to the air. Dave’s voice, a warm, resonant rumble that felt like a physical touch, filled the quiet room. You have no idea how you brighten my day. Dreamt about you last night. Just… time. Just us. A smile touched her lips, a balm against the gritty exhaustion of a night spent tending to a wh…
2026-01-28 — Nsfw1
The ache started in her hip, a dull, familiar throb from a night spent twisting in sheets that smelled of laundry soap and absence. Sam sent the photo with a grimacing emoji—her reflection in the blurry bathroom mirror at dawn, shadows under her eyes, hair in a messy knot. Long day ahead, she’d typed. Dave’s reply was instantaneous. Beautiful. You’re always beautiful. Then, the playful dig about her new favorite emoji, the one with the suggestive smirk. It was their pattern: a lifeline of ordinary misery spun…
2026-01-27 — Nsfw1
His audio message began the ritual. Sam played it in the car after her chaotic drive, one hand on the wheel, the other holding the phone to her ear as if he were whispering into it. His voice, scratchy from sleep, warm as a shared blanket, said he’d felt her with him all morning. That their talk last night had settled in his bones. “Hope you slept okay, sweet girl,” he’d rumbled, and the endearment curled right into her belly, a low, pleasant heat. She fired back a silly picture, a pouting face with the caption: *…
2026-01-26 — Nsfw1
The audio message hummed in Sam’s ear as she navigated the morning traffic, Dave’s voice a low, warm thrum that seemed to bypass her ears entirely and settle somewhere deep in her solar plexus. “Good morning. I love you. Those passages you sent last night… God, I love when you send me pieces of your mind like that. It’s like you’re handing me keys.” A shiver, pleasant and sharp, traveled down her spine. She tapped a reply, her thumb hovering over a photo of him from months ago—a candid shot where he looked both…
2026-01-25 — Nsfw1
The crisp sheets were a joke between them now, a shorthand for the sterile, frictionless life Dave was supposed to be living. Sam’s text, Wait, are you subtly telling me you’re raw-dogging your crisp sheets? had him laughing aloud in his quiet, snow-bound house. Cabin fever wasn’t just about the weather; it was a four-year build-up of want, condensed into a desperate, physical ache behind his zipper. He listened to her audio message for the third time. “You’re my sunshine. Even on a shitty night.” Her voice, s…
2026-01-24 — Nsfw1
The hum of the generator outside was a low, persistent threat, a reminder of the ice-laden branches sagging over the power lines. Inside, the fire in Dave’s hearth crackled, devouring a log of dense oak—throws good heat, lasts a long time, he’d texted her earlier. He stared at the flames, his phone warm in his palm, a gallery of her face and his own stupid grin lighting up the screen. Their whole day lived there: from the blizzard of emojis she’d sent over his morning photo, to the hushed, confessional tone thei…
2026-01-23 — Nsfw1
Her Monday started with a system crash. Not the hotel Wi-Fi, but Sam herself. She woke to her watch’s cheerful green readiness ring, a liar in silicone, declaring her body rested and her heart rate optimal. It knew nothing of the weight on her sternum, the grumpy, viscous fog that filled her skull. She’d slept, but her mind had run marathons on broken glass, chasing fragments of a disjointed dream—a faceless crowd, a missed flight, Dave’s voice echoing down an empty terminal. She swiped his good morning text, her…
2026-01-22 — Nsfw1
The digital intimacy of the day—the voice notes, the typed vulnerabilities, the shared laughter about anxious dogs—had left a tangible hum in Sam’s veins. Dave’s suggestion of a code word, a lifeline for her spirals, echoed. It felt like a key turning in a lock deep within her. She lay in her bed, the one she always made first thing, and the empty space beside her was no longer just empty; it was a shaped void, Dave-shaped, radiating a specific, remembered heat. Her phone glowed with their last exchanged texts, a…
2026-01-21 — Nsfw1
The low thrum of anxiety in Sam’s skull had finally subsided to a faint, ignorable whisper, replaced by a different kind of thrum entirely. Her phone, dark on the sheets beside her, was a dormant conduit. The day’s tapestry—woven with threads of his comforting words, shared annoyance at her colleague’s existence, and the absurd, beautiful joke of their self-imposed abstinence—lay warm around her. It was the kind of warmth that settled not in the heart, but lower, a slow, sweet ache that pulsed in time with her hea…
2026-01-20 — Nsfw1
The frustration had settled into Dave’s bones like a winter ache. The snowstorm swirling on the radar over his screen wasn't just a weather pattern; it was a physical threat to a promise, a barrier between him and the balm of Sam’s presence. Their conversation all day had been a tender oscillation between playful ease and this raw, exposed nerve of yearning. He played her last voice note again in his car, parked in his dark garage, the engine off. *“I just want that feeling again. Your hand on my back. The quiet,…
2026-01-19 — Nsfw1
The ache started at dawn, a low, persistent hum in Sam’s body as she replayed Dave’s audio message on her drive. His voice—that smooth, deliberate Texan drawl, warm with a smile she could feel through the phone—had said, I’m already excited for our weekend. It wasn't just a sentiment; it was a fact, a vibration that set her nerves alight. She’d sent him a playful photo in return, a teasing, sunlit selfie, but the image was a lie. Behind the smile was a simmering focus. He was a living current beneath her skin, a…