Prompt 29
Added 2024-10-06 18:51:40 +0000 UTC[next is Prompt 44]
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“Gotcha. Little Fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?”
Your look was sullen and helpless. You lost. I would have accepted surrender [even though my trigger finger itched] if only to rub in the defeat. "Discard your firearm."
“This isn’t over,” you said through gritted teeth - and I saw as the anger sharpened your brow. I'd have to have been a fool to think you'd drop your weapon.
“Then you leave me no choice” escaped my lips as we both dove and shot.
I got you in the gut and you managed a headshot [lucky]. We collapsed on the couch in a fit of laughter. It was some random Tuesday. No special occasion.
I guess what I’m saying is, thank you for playing with me every day.
[pic attached]
Comments
- standing O - in all senses 💜
Mare
2024-10-07 22:33:33 +0000 UTC🥵🪭 Flynnie! Giving Doc a run for his money.
Catherine
2024-10-07 17:12:38 +0000 UTC“Gotcha. Little fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” I almost smiled. Almost. That would give it away. That this was right where I wanted to be. On my knees with her blade at my throat. We both panted, a sheen of sweat covering us from the exertion. Blood trickled from a nick by my left eye and your sleeve was beginning to stain red. It hadn’t been easy to get here, but the best things never are. “The question is whether I’m more useful to you dead or alive.” “You’d be less irritating dead.” The tip of her sword lifted my chin, keeping my eyes on hers. “Less amusing too. Don’t tell me you’re not having fun.” “Oh, I’ve had my fun. What good are you now though?” She smiled, triumphant yet challenging. That was the moment I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d maneuvered us here. “You don’t know? Never had a man on his knees before?” “Not one who talked so much.” She closed distance, blade along my throat as she roughly grabbed my hair. “I might need to take your tongue.” She was so close I could smell her. Her sweat and musk already making me drool, driving every clever word from my mouth. I could sense the heat coming off of her and my breath came heavier than at any point in the duel. She tugged my hair sharply. “Your tongue. Now.” My fingers found her laces in a moment and her pants were around her ankles the next. I didn’t spare a moment to admire, that would happen later. Her hand and my need drove my lips between her legs. My tongue sliding along her to taste what I’d been craving for ages, moaning into her as she dominated my senses. “MY fucking goddess. Keep me here. I wanna live between your legs and be used by you as I devour you. I want my tongue to be buried in your pussy or worshiping your clit. Every taste makes the hunger stronger, makes the craving grow. Soak my beard and drown me in your cum.” That’s what I would’ve said if my mouth had left her cunt her a second. She didn’t give me a rest and I didn’t want one. She kept a tight hold of my hair and her blade along my throat as she rode my mouth, telling me exactly what she wanted. Harder. Higher. Slower. I obeyed. Eagerly and gladly. I’d do anything she said to stay there. I felt here thighs begin to shake. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” And I didn’t. I licked and sucked as her breath grew shallow and her muscles tightened. I kept going as the moan built and broke out her lips and her cum covered my tongue and lips and chin. And I didn’t stop then. I would never stop till she told me to.
Flynn
2024-10-07 16:33:43 +0000 UTC"Relax, relax, breathe, I told myself" after reading this, Siesta. YOOF. Happy spooky season to YOU ❤️🔥🧛♂️🧛♀️
caroscope
2024-10-07 01:32:24 +0000 UTCGotcha. Little fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think? He whispered by my ear. Tongue and teeth grazing along the pulsing artery in my neck. Do I take just enough to turn you and tie you to me forever or do I drink my fill and leave your sad little husk here for the crows? My breath caught in my throat, I froze, heart racing. Was he actually asking me or was he just a cat toying with its prey before devouring it? Hmmmm? He purred, nose nuzzled where my shoulder met my neck, inhaling me. He sounded drunk with lust, but was it *for* me or to consume me? Heart pounding, breathing heavy, my eyes flew open. Relax, relax, breathe, I told myself. It was just the dream again.
siesta_maven
2024-10-07 01:20:33 +0000 UTCI love all the different types/sources of light here... So dreamy! 💖
Margaret Peffy Margie Maggie
2024-10-07 00:30:02 +0000 UTCDUOLINGO HUMAN ENGLISH 🤣🤣🤣🤣 delightful as always
siesta_maven
2024-10-06 23:39:48 +0000 UTC“Gotcha. Little Fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” * I hear him as he games in the next room, offering the threat to the air with enough passion to will on-screen action into three dimensions. Content in a duvet cloud, I laze about in bed, taking in the indulgence that Sunday and soft sheets offer. It’s a gloriously long morning after a night out in my city with coworkers turned friends for the small hours. Stretching my legs and turning from side to back, I chase a patch of sunlight like a cat until I find that optimal glow warming torso and face. I take in my body, appraising a little bruise, shimmery hairs, that crescent-shaped scar—skin I like, skin I tolerate. I make eye contact with [her] in the mirror across from our bed. And [she] won’t let “oh, you are mine now” go. I know he was speaking about some target or another, but possession and temptation had spiked late last night and linger as welcome bedfellows. I draw my eyelids closed to project the night’s memories and dreams, instead of absorb daylight: I’d left the party in a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and soft plans for coffee dates, and started to make my way to my apartment. Happy, tired, ready to cuddle and rest. I boarded the metro and looked at my phone. Heat rose as I returned to the notification. I’d put off opening it till the journey home—Sacrifice [poem] [NSFW]. Can you blame me? [I’d battled Impatient Slut, promising to feed her your words later]. Alone in the crowded train car and somewhere between one French-named stop and another, I made good on my promise and scanned screen. My throat tightened, just a little, and I crossed my legs. Images of spirits and callused knees pooled in my imagination and bloodstream. I glimpsed my reflection in the tunnel-lit window, and I saw the pleasure grow in the corners of my eyes and lips. Arriving to my stop, the brisk fall wind ushered me along for the short jaunt from station to apartment. I ascended the twisting stair, gripping the rail to urge faster legs. “I will __” pounded like a heartbeat of [fictional] future tense. Key turned and door opened. My eyes adjusted to the low light—the apartment dark, save the little lamp illuminating the sideboard in the living room. I locked up and quietly kicked off my shoes, stockinged feet slinking to the bedroom. But I found I couldn’t disturb his sleep, no matter how awake [she] was. Too peaceful, too needed. I washed Impatient Slut away in a honey-scented shower and let dreams do the rest. But “oh, you're mine now” warms like the sun on my skin. Maybe I will join him on the couch. Edited to add: * Though the prompt's words, it's incredibly easy to envision my partner [or myself] saying something like this while playing games. So it was oh so fun to imagine what such a phrase might spark irl. Particularly in light of yesterday's gorgeous audio and poem. Thanks, as always, for inspiring creativity, drR! To play every day, in one way or another, is a beautiful aim 💜
caroscope
2024-10-06 22:53:26 +0000 UTC“Gotcha, little fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” “Well,” replied the mouse, “I certainly hope it’s alive. My family would be devastated if they found I’d fallen to your clutches." I scrambled back as fast as I could, dropping the Hav-A-Heart trap in the process. “Di… did you just TALK?!” I near-shrieked. Surely not, my brain reasoned; I’ve been stressed out and am hallucinating. Come to think of it, have I had enough water today? Maybe I’m dehydrated. “Besides,” he continued, “have you considered that I might be more than meets the eye? What if, instead of killing me, you consider…. Kissing me?” “I’m sorry, *WHAT*?!” I did actually shriek this time, fairly certain I was having a stroke. “I mean, the curse keeps me from saying anything specific, but do you remember that Princess and the frog story?” “So you’re telling me if I kiss you, a curse you’re under will be broken, you’ll revert to your human prince form, and we’ll live happily ever after??” “I’m not *not* telling you that.” I picked the trap up again and looked more closely at the mouse, considering the implications. He did look sort of royal. And I didn’t really *want* to kill him, I just wanted him to stop eating my food. And if he could *talk*… maybe there was something to this. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I asked him. He sorrowfully cast his eyes down for a moment then, before looking back into mine. “Well, you don’t, I suppose. There’s no way for me to prove it. I understand if you want to kill me, but please, make it quick. I don’t want my family to think I suffered to feed them.” A single tear rolled down his furry cheek. I pondered a moment. I really didn’t want to be a cute fuzzy animal murderer, and there was the *talking*. That had to mean *something*, didn’t it? How often do you come across a talking animal? And all those fables and fairy tales have *some* basis in fact… they’re kind of [true lies], right? So what if… what if he was telling the truth? I set the trap down gently and opened the gate. He paused a moment, then cautiously walked out. I held my hand out flat on the floor, palm up, in invitation. Gingerly he climbed on, and I lifted him to my eye level. “Okay, Prince Mouse, I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s all right. …Wait, this is just, like, a peck on the cheek situation, right? Because I’m not Frenching a rodent.” Drawing himself up to his full height, he intoned regally, “Madam, if you think I want human tongue anywhere near me, you are very mistaken.” “My bad.” I steeled myself and kissed the top of his cute little furry head, then placed him back on the floor. We looked into each other’s eyes, waiting. And then he turned and ran right into the little hole in the baseboard. ------------ “You should have seen the look on her face,” he regaled his friends later. “I think she really thought I was going to turn into a prince!” “I told you those Duolingo Human English lessons would be useful!” his wife laughed. And they lived happily ever after. 💖
Margaret Peffy Margie Maggie
2024-10-06 22:39:46 +0000 UTCWHAT SHE SAID.
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-10-06 20:33:22 +0000 UTCA spooky, woodsmoke-infused folk horror dream. Well done, K.
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-10-06 20:33:14 +0000 UTC"This wasn't a hunt. It was a revelation." HI I AM OBSESSED. This is so creepy and delicious. I love every word.
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-10-06 20:31:58 +0000 UTCVELVET! Add “Gotcha Little Fucker” to the band names
AHarbinger
2024-10-06 20:09:10 +0000 UTC[My original response to the prompt before pivoting to the intrusive thought one] “Gotcha. Little fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it's just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” The creature in my grasp didn’t flinch, didn’t struggle. It was soft, yielding, but not like flesh—more like fog, or smoke, something that wasn’t supposed to be touched, something that could slip through your fingers if you weren’t careful. Yet here it was, in my hands, grinning up at me with too many teeth. Its eyes glistened, black like the void between stars, the kind of darkness that swallowed light and never gave it back. “You’ve found me,” it hissed, the voice barely above a whisper, but it crawled into my ears, under my skin. The sound didn’t come from just one place—it felt like it was everywhere, layered with strange echoes, echoes of things that should never have voices. “But it’s never been about me, has it?” A chill shot up my spine. I tried to tighten my grip, to hold it steady, but I could feel it shifting under my fingers. Its skin—or whatever passed for skin—morphed, softening one moment, solidifying the next. Something moved beneath the skin, rippling like the current of a deep ocean. “I’ve been waiting,” it continued, almost tender. “Waiting so long, for this. For you. Do you feel it yet?” My breath caught, and I tried to shake the unease. But there was something wrong—pulling at me from deep inside, like a slow unraveling. “Shut up,” I snapped. “You’ve been running from me for days. You thought you could hide—” The creature laughed, a sound like wind through dead trees, rattling with a hollow, ancient amusement. “Running? Hide?” Its form flickered, warping, growing. The space around us twisted, the trees looming closer, the world bending in on itself. “I didn’t run from you. I didn’t hide from you. I was calling to you. I *wanted* you to find me.” The forest around us seemed to groan, like something beneath the earth was shifting, stretching awake. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay. And deep inside, I felt it—that pull, that rhythm that had been thrumming in my bones since the moment I stepped into these woods. “No.” I shook my head, but the sensation wouldn’t leave. It was like a hum, a song you can’t shake, a melody that had always been there, just out of reach, now growing louder. It felt too familiar, too real, as if I’d known it all along. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” the creature whispered, its too-wide smile growing. “That pull. That hunger. It’s been in you all along, waiting for the right moment, waiting for *me* to wake it.” I tried to pull away, but my hand—it wasn’t letting go. No, it was sinking deeper into the creature, its form dissolving around my fingers. And in that moment, I felt something vast stirring, flowing into me, through me. “I was never your prey,” it whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you. You came because you couldn’t resist. You followed because this is where you were always meant to be.” The world around us twisted, the shadows deepening, stretching, as if bending toward the creature, toward *me*. And I felt it—the truth slipping into me, an old, buried knowledge. The thing in my grasp wasn’t a thing at all—it was a part of something bigger, something I had been a part of once without ever knowing. “I’m not your enemy,” it murmured, voice soft now, almost soothing. “I’m your key. You’ve been asleep, dreaming you were something small, something *human*. But you’re not. You never were.” My chest tightened as the weight of its words settled over me, powerful and undeniable. The air pulsed with an energy that felt ancient, wrong and yet…right. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and I could feel it now—deep in my core—stirring, waking, a power that had always been mine but long forgotten. “You’re not here to destroy me,” it murmured, pressing closer. “You’re here to *become*. To remember. And then it all clicked. The tremor in my chest wasn’t fear. It was recognition. That pull, that gnawing hunger—it had always been there, hidden beneath layers of skin and bone and the lie of humanity. This wasn’t a hunt. It was a revelation. I looked down at the creature, and for the first time, I saw it for what it was—not a monster, not an enemy, but a reflection—a mirror of what I had always been. And it smiled, its form unraveling, dissolving into the air, into me. “Welcome back,” it whispered, as the shadows around us folded inward, and I felt the power surge through me, infinite and ancient. I wasn’t the hunter. I never had been. I was what had been waiting, all along, to wake up.
libby (feral.libra)
2024-10-06 19:46:09 +0000 UTCGotcha. Little Fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think? Because you look quite at my mercy at the moment, all tied up on my bed. You thought it would be fun to tease me all day? Taunt me with those sexy voice notes? Pictures of your hard cock in your hand? When you knew I was busy with meetings I couldn’t escape. You knew I would be squirming in my chair, did it make you even harder fucker? Because you are going to pay for it now. All it takes is my tits in your face to get you on the bed, fit to be tied. But you didn’t see it coming did you? You thought I would be so feral I wouldn’t be able to wait, and you are not far off. But I’m also vengeful, you forget. So here you are, naked and vulnerable, cock so hard it throbs for me. But that will have to wait. See this lovely little plug? Yes, the one that vibrates that you love to torture me with. It’s your turn to have fun with it again. I have it all lubed up for you fucker. And once you are vibrating I’m going to ride your face until you make me cum. There’s always a chance you will suffocate between these thick thighs, but dead or alive, that’s the risk you take when you taunt me and you know it. And if you make me cum hard enough I might just fuck you. Maybe. Now, do you remember your safeword? Brian. Good boy. Now just relax.
Jamie
2024-10-06 19:44:11 +0000 UTCLeaning into spooky season and playing with a long-standing idea, incl. non-fictional animal infestations and local folklore. “Gotcha. Little Fucker. Oh, you are mine now. No escape this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” The rat and I stared at each other. He was pretending to look cute up on the ancient beam just above my head. He had been tormenting me every night for a week, gnawing at the beams and planks behind the panelling of our bedroom. Now he had finally gnawed his way through to the ground floor, so at least I knew where to place the bloody trap. I knew what this was of course. Phil thought me mad, but then, he didn’t know what I knew. “Tell your master”, I hissed at the rat, “that I’m giving in. I don’t know what he wants with me, but he can have it, as long as he leaves my family alone!” The rat scrutinised me briefly with its black button eyes and shot back into the hole it had come from. Life had been hell since we’d moved to the island. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d wished we’d never come, but we’d made our bed and now we had to lie in it. I’d never been in any doubt from the beginning that the spirit of place was not a friendly one. The first summer had seen the emergence of flying ants in the living room, autumn brought a plague of black flies in the gable end and we had trapped two dozen mice before we had even come to Christmas. And now the rat. I knew it was HIM, tormenting me deliberately, taking my sleep, making me feel slightly unhinged. Night after night, that rat had gnawed at the woodwork just above my head until I’d buried my head under the pillow. I didn’t understand how Phil could hear nothing. He lay next to me sleeping peacefully, denying all knowledge of anything come the morning, claiming it was just mice or the house moving in the never ceasing winter gales. But then he didn't have the dreams, the dreams of HIM. They didn’t start until the autumn. Until then, even I had shrugged off my feelings of unease, telling myself that insect and rodent invasions were a necessary evil of living far out in the countryside. When one of the boys fell into the winter swollen stream, it was only me who saw the root that had deliberately trapped his foot. We’d pulled him out quickly. No harm done, Phil said, just an accident. Things changed one day in mid October. I was washing the dishes, looking out over the autumnal woods, where the leaves were turning increasingly golden. I heard him first, his breath in my ear. I turned around thinking it was Phil, but there was no one there. I turned back to the dishes, feeling a chill pass through me, despite the hot water, and blamed it on the leaky kitchen windows that were still on my restoration list. But once again, I heard him breathe into my ear and felt his cool breath against my neck. I threw down the dish cloth and fled the kitchen, looking for Phil and the boys, fearing that my chronic worries were finally messing with my mind. That night I slept badly. I tossed and turned in my sleep, feeling half warm, half cold, getting entangled, limbs thrashing. The same image haunted my dreams in a maddening loop: a rider, a huge man on a pale three-legged horse. He wore a smuggler’s hat and had black eyes, eyes that bored into mine. The noise of his breathing invaded my ears, no matter how far away he was in the dream. I woke to an icy draught passing over my body. I put on the bedside light to find that the window stood wide open. Dry leaves rustled under my feet, as I climbed out of bed to shut it. It struck me as curious, even in my half-awake state, as there was no tree on that side of the house. That’s when I caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror. I suppressed a scream. My face, my throat, my breasts and thighs all were smeared with damp earth. My hands were shaking as I shut the window and crept through the dark house to the bathroom. I put on the hot water and frantically started to shower off the dirt. I ran my hands between my thighs and found myself soaking wet in my own juices. Shame and disbelief rushed through me. I don’t know why I didn’t tell Phil. Somehow I couldn’t, or rather I sensed that I mustn’t, like this was between HIM and me. It wasn’t the last time I woke up covered in earth. The deeper we got into autumn and moved towards midwinter, the more frequent the dreams became. Each time I dreamt of him I saw him closer and more clearly. So when the day came where I found myself hissing at a rat like a madwoman, I knew we would settle this. When I stood naked by the wide open window early the next morning, covered in his earthy hand prints, I saw him there, his horse’s breath steaming in the icy winter air. I wrapped a blanket around me, climbing barefoot down the outside stairs. The frosty grass broke under my naked toes, but I barely noticed, already drawn into his black eyes. “Who are you?” I whispered. He slid down from the horse in one fluid move. His hand found my waist like it had been there dozens of times before. Yet he was waiting for something from me, some signal. “Yes”, I mouthed, “yes”, as my body had long made the decision for me. His free hand brought my wrist to his mouth. A cry escaped my throat as his teeth pierced my skin and he drew blood. Each suck of his lips connected with the throbbing between my legs. I sagged against him, his broad body offering no warmth. He pulled away, his pale lips pink with my blood. He brought his own wrist to my lips, forcing his skin against my teeth. I froze and he pushed again until my teeth closed down and I drank. He tasted of earth and iron, yet sweet and rich, and I drank until the sweetness was too much, until I climaxed in his hold and he let me drop to the frozen ground. When I next looked up, he was gone, not a hoof print anywhere on the frosty ground. My wrist stung and ached, the horseshoe wound already closing up. A promise given, a pact made, but to what end I did not know.
Katakora
2024-10-06 19:39:32 +0000 UTC"Watching them fade as I heal" 🥹 incredible.
Megan (mlgreads)
2024-10-06 19:39:09 +0000 UTC“Gotcha. Little Fucker!” I grip the dark, twitching ball made of scaly, sharp skin. “Oh, you are mine now. No escaping this time. Now it’s just a question of dead or alive. What do you think?” “Umm, this is a tough one. What do you normally do with them?” “Kill em. I’ve burned, exploded, drowned, I can get really creative.” “Ok, well can you put that thing away for now? For a bit, let me just think about this.” “Sure, I’ll keep in here.” I said as I tossed it in a box and locked it up, “Done.” She pours Don Julio 1942 into two copitas, walks over and hands one to me. “I usually don’t drink at 11am but I think this warrants it.” Smile not meeting her eyes, she continues,”This has never happened to me before, I’m afraid of what happens next.” “I completely understand what you’re going through. Been there a few times myself.” “What am I supposed to do? I want to kill it but I’m afraid of how I will feel after. Will I be the same person? What did you do with yours?” Mid sip, I make eye contact above the rim of the glass. I sip, let the tequila sit in my mouth a bit, then swallow. “Ummm.. I wear mine.” “You, WEAR them? Please explain.” “It’s hard to explain without showing you. I point at my chest, “It’s under here. May I show you? I promise, it’s nothing perverted.” She nodded her approval. I unzip the jumpsuit and peel off the top half. My scars slowly come into view, alive with intricate paths across my body, weaving through my black lace bra. They shimmer in violet, crimson, and indigo.. as if etched by magical tattoo needles. “How did you do that?” She says. “Wounds like this are often caused by people… people that should’ve protected you but didn’t.. people who betrayed you.. I made a promise to myself that I’ll forgive them… and myself. I call this my map of survival. See this one?” I point to a faded one, “Watching them fade as I heal, reminds me that even the most deepest cuts can heal.” I put my jumpsuit top back on and go grab the box, “Now I know they hurt you and it feels impossible now- but you too can heal.” I lift up the box and ask, “Now, I’ll ask again dead or alive?”
Delicada19🫀
2024-10-06 19:37:19 +0000 UTC
