#flash fiction prompt

[transcendragon]

“Look, I can tell you try hard to provide a good home and your child has only good things to say about you,” Ms. Paureen said, holding her clipboard close as she stared me down, “but I can tell there’s more that you’re not telling me.”

I cursed internally. Social workers had been sent our way before, it felt like an inevitability as a single mother even without the lycanthropy, but the others had clearly just wanted to check off boxes. It was almost scary to think about how easily they’d dismiss a household with real problems. I would applaud Ms. Paureen’s dedication if she weren’t such a major problem.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” I said, trying not to glance away. “What more could there be to tell?”

Besides, of course, the secret trap door leading to the locked and padded basement. The layers of red meat under the popsicles in the freezer. The tattered clothes of my late husband that I kept deep in my closet, one of few memorabilia of him in his cursed form. Nothing at all besides all of that.

“I’ve checked your child’s records,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Every month? It’s a pattern, almost like clockwork. It makes me wonder.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Blood rushed in my ears.

“Wondered what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

She glanced around and lowered her voice surreptitiously. “Has your child had an early puberty? PMDD is nothing to scoff at. They claimed they were just clumsy every month, but I think they almost admitted to me that they have… monthly struggles. Have you seen a doctor?”

I pressed my lips together to keep the relief from flooding my face and finally let myself look down at my hands. I could feel the laughter welling in my chest, and fought desperately to keep it down. Premenstrual Depressive Disorder? More like Pre-Lycanthropic Depressive Disorder. But I couldn’t say that.

“Do you really think so?” I asked, just to say something.

She nodded gravely. “Young people find it hard to talk about these things, they might not have mentioned anything to you. But it’s truly worth checking out. See a doctor, just in case, alright?”

“Of course, I’ll have it fully checked out,” I said.

“I’ll check in with you again in a few months,” she replied. “I’ll expect to see that doctor’s report on record!”

She didn’t leave immediately, needing more signatures and admin forms. When she finally left I let out the deepest sigh of relief that I could manage. I headed up to my kid’s bedroom, knocking on the door for them to let me in.

“Is everything alright?” they asked me anxiously, but didn’t give me the chance to respond.. “She didn’t realize anything? I think I said too much, and she got this look, I’m so sorry-”

I raised my hands to stop the flow of recriminations.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said firmly. “Everything is fine. We just need to call up that vampire doctor again.”

“Her?” They made a face. “But their hands are always cold! Can’t we just go to the Dryad vet again?”

I shook my head. “This isn’t exactly a medical issue. It looks like we might have to fake PMDD.”

“PMDD?” They repeated. “What’s that?”

“Well, remember the talk we had last year?”

They groaned. “Ugh, I wish I could forget it. That was so embarrassing.”

“Unfortunately it looks like there’s going to have to be a part two to that conversation,” I said. I put my hands on my hips as my child fake-gagged at me and sighed.

The glories of having a werewolf child. After everything, I have to admit the experience probably isn’t that different from many other parents. You never know what to expect with kids.

Your child is a werewolf. You're struggling to both keep their condition a secret and give them a normal life. Full moons are always a challenge. One day child protective services visit you on a report of your child's scars and monthly missed school days.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ seven word prompts for seven sentence fics 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ “really? i never knew that about you.”

²⁾ “come on, don’t pretend for my sake.”

³⁾ “looks like they left in a hurry.”

⁴⁾ “who’s calling you this late at night?”

⁵⁾ “seriously, were you dropped as a baby?!”

⁶⁾ “i could eat a horse.” “please don’t.”

⁷⁾ “ice cream? at three in the morning?”

⁸⁾ “get your ass here, right fucking now!”

⁹⁾ “i really did care about you, y’know.”

¹⁰⁾ “you’re not going home, you need stitches!”

¹¹⁾ “we need to get you warm, fast.”

¹²⁾ “how long have we been driving for?”

¹³⁾ “[name]- “ “don’t start. [boss]’s already deafened me.”¹⁾

¹⁴⁾ “what’s a single bed between three friends?”

¹⁵⁾ “why are you in just a towel?!”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m your bodyguard, not your damn friend.”

¹⁷⁾ “swallow your pride.” “i’d rather swallow concrete.”

¹⁸⁾ “you look really good in my money.”

¹⁹⁾ “i said i’d help. didn’t say how.”

²⁰⁾ “come, sit. i made you some dinner.”

²¹⁾ “hide! they’re coming your way, and fast!”

²²⁾ “i knew you had feelings for them.”

²³⁾ “you’re exhausted, pet. let me mind you.”

²⁴⁾ “[name]’s in the hospital. it’s not good.”

²⁵⁾ “but you promised it’d all be okay!”

²⁶⁾ “their cover’s been blown- get them out!”

²⁷⁾ “who’d buying you flowers that isn’t me?”

²⁸⁾ “i was stupid enough to believe you.”

²⁹⁾ “isn’t paying for dinner a date thing?”

³⁰⁾ “for you, i’d do anything.” “i know.”

[flame-343]

PROMPT

What if clockwork had HUGE beef with the flash family? They slow down time or travel back and forward in time and it just ruins all his hard work. At the beginning, it was ok but after five years? No, just no. Now the justice league has to summon Danny to make political connections, but after the summoning Danny is just gob smacked and asked flash to sign something, when asked why Danny just says "you and your entire family pissed off the controller of time and timelines. He isn't allowed to kill you guys because ghost writer won't allow him, so he has been planning your lives after you die, he has a HUGE grudge with you guys, you're like celebrities". And flash? He has a new love for being alive and absolute terror for when he dies

[featherlovesrobots]

this would be hilarious actually

"As they stood together on the balcony, they stopped and stared into each other's eyes. For the fifth time, by the way, because they don't get bored easily, I guess. But who's keeping track."

unreliable narrator but it's just an aromantic writing romance

[ammarettu]

Writing prompt: Curse breaking, true hate's kiss.

It's been two weeks since that horrible wretch of a mage falsely seduced him. Wandering hands on his chest and muttered words of adoration had distracted him from that distinct crackle and the faint scent of ozone.

He should have known better.

Should have seen it, or sensed it. He knows mages. Knows what they're capable of, their temperaments and egos. It wasn't until she was uttering about how he needed to learn to be humble, not to try and worm his way into everyone's good graces. Had to accept that people - no one - wanted him, that he noticed what she was.

So, instead of getting laid, he'd gotten cursed.

At least, mercifully, she'd told him the means to breaking the curse, which left him unable to speak, sing, or write.

True hate's kiss. Kiss someone who well and truely hates him. Perfect.

Which is how he now finds himself trudging through the overgrown wilderness, chasing rumors of a white-haired Witcher despite promising on the top of that fucking mountain that he would never bother him again.

He's still angry. Still hurt. His heart aches with every step closer, feels flayed open like bass being salted for dinner - and now he's hungry on top of it all!

He knows Geralt is going to be angry, annoyed at having to see him again even after the six months that have passed, but it can't be helped.

Jaskier's boots are caked in mud, the soles worn thin - he's pretty sure he's more blister than man at this point, despite his feet being used to years of walking, he's spent quite a bit of time in one place recently. He's gone soft rather quickly, it seems. (That tends to happen when you drink yourself stupid almost every night.)

He's close now.

He can see the smoke of a fire rising from above the trees, just past a village that told him the White Wolf had been staying nearby for the past several weeks, slaying mosntsers, refusing coin and only coming into town to sell the parts.

The woods here are dense, he'd curse at the branches smacking him in the face if he could, nature can eat his entire ass, thank you very much.

So maybe he's in a bit of a bad mood. Usually, the dense foliage, verdant and towering, letting through faint rays of sun that glitter on the moss and stones of the ground would inspire him to compose. Today he can only feel anger, because if he lets himself feel anything else he'll remember how heartbroken he is and start weeping like a small child.

So he's angry.

Angry at the branches. Angry at the Witcher.

Geralt hears him approach, of course he does. He's a Witcher, and an extra special one at that. The thought irks something in him that wants to taunt, "Ooh, so special, such a special boy," but again, that would be childish. And he can't talk.

When he reaches the clearing Geralt is there, sitting on a log facing away from him, hunched over as though trying to make himself smaller. Jaskier is half expecting him to growl or threaten him. Instead, he gets a quiet, "Bard?"

It's a question, and Geralt doesn't even bother to look at him or use his name. It makes Jaskier seethe.

He rounds the log the Witcher is sitting on, stands glaring down at him with his hands on his hips. Geralt keeps his eyes locked on the fire. Doesn't lift his gaze. It would hurt, would break his heart if there was anything of it left to break. He hates that Geralt hates him so much he can't even bear to look at him, or say his name.

He might as well get this over with. Might as well bite the rapier, so to speak, and get out of Geralt's hair before the Witcher decides to tear him a new set of holes.

He steps forward, into Geralt's space, winds his fingers into that glorious white hair, which is looking and feeling worse for wear - all of Geralt is, really. He's dirty, unshaven, looks ragged and worn and disheveled. He ignores that observation and yanks back on his silver locks until his head is tilted the way he wants it to be, leans down, and kisses him.

Jaskier normally isn't the type to kiss people who don't want it. Consent is important and he'll cut the balls off anyone who says otherwise, but this is important. Geralt won't forgive him, but he already hates the bard so there really isn't much lost there.

Then, hands are on his waist tugging him closer and a tongue is in his mouth and - Geralt is kissing him back. He's confused as all hell but not complaining, he's not an idiot!

Well, not that kind anyways.

When they break apart Geralt is looking up at him with furrowed brows, confused. Not angry.

"Mm, not... that I don't... why?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak - nothing. No sound. All that effort wasted. Geralt doesn't even hate him enough to break a fucking curse.

"Jaskier?"

He shakes his head, fighting back tears, unsure how to explain to a man who hates him but doesn't hate him enough why he's just assaulted him.

Jaskier flops onto the log next to Geralt and gestures vaguely, makes a talking motion with his hand, then an X with his arms.

"Can't talk?"

At least Geralt is smart, most Witchers are, in Jaskier's experience. They solve murders, chase monsters. They have to be good at reading between the lines, but only if those lines aren't emotions.

"Mm," Geralt looks him over, pulls his pendant from his neck and holds it up to Jaskier, "Magic. Curse?" Jaskier nods. Geralt swallows, "The cure is... a kiss?"

Jaskier nods again, sighs.

"From... what? Usually it's true love." He sounds oddly hopeful. Fidgets in a way that Jaskier has never seen. Jaskier shakes his head, ponders how to explain this absolute clusterfuck.

If Geralt didn't work there's only one other option anyways.

Valdo Marx.

((Now with part 2 ))

[zylev-blog]

Excerpt from a fic I’m thinking about writing. Danny is the god of space, Clockwork is the god of time, with Danny being his biological son. Danny can see through time, but it’s limited, so Clockwork still sends him out to fix time

———-

“Barry Allen.”

Barry turned, completely unprepared for the being that stood in front of him. Brilliant white hair that moved without a breeze, light blue skin with the smattering of freckles across his face, vivid, neon green eyes, sharp, pointed ears, and brilliant white teeth that had fangs. The being wore royal blue robes that covered from his neck to his feet, and were free of any logo. On the beings shoulders sat a cape of a vivid black, darker than any fabric Barry had ever seen before. On the inside of the cape were stars and galaxies, along with planets that moved around the cape. Barry didn’t know if the cape was a projection of the galaxy or if it was it’s own seperate galaxy housed inside a cape.

“You have messed with the fabric of time.” The being continued.

The man was around Barry’s age, perhaps early to mid twenties. He stood several inches taller than Barry, who stood at 6”1.

“I—“ He found his mouth as dry as cotton. The being, whoever he was, radiated power unlike anything Barry had ever seen before in his life.

Barry was terrified.

“I’m sorry.” Barry said lamely.

The being tilted his head just slightly, looking at Barry as if he were an animal. “Everything is as it should be, Barry Allen,” The being continued, “However, the fabric of time will become unraveled if we do not correct your anomaly before it solidifies.”

Barry had no idea what the fuck that meant. The confusion must have shown on his face, as the being continued to speak.

“Time is like a river,” the being said, “if you throw a pebble in the stream it will change the surface of the water until the ripples dissipate. We are riding the current, but the ripples through time are becoming more unstable.”

“How do we fix it?” Barry asked.

“Simple. I reset the timeline to the original course.”

Barry frowned. “My mother would go back to being dead though, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. He knew he didn’t have his metahuman abilities and would likely be killed by this alien if he challenged the man, but he did it anyways. “No.”

Much to Barry’s surprise, the being smiled. “I knew you were going to say that.”

It seemed as if the being was messing with him now. Barry didn’t know what to think of that.

“I don’t want to lose my mom.” Barry said, sadness creeping into his voice.

“Your life has been altered by another being who should not be altering the time stream.” The being responded.

Wait, what?

“I will spare your mother if you assist me in catching this man.”

“Yes!” He agreed immediately. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just save my mom.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Barry Allen.” The being warned. The being turned to leave, but was stopped by Barry.

“Wait. How do I contact you? And what do I call you?” Barry asked.

“I will contact you when the timeline resets.” The being said, pulling a medallion in the shape of a gear out of thin air and handing it to Barry. “Call me Phantom.”

“What’s this for?” Barry questioned.

“Place it around your moms neck. It will save her from being wrote out of existence.” Phantom replied, then dissappeared into a bright beam of light.

[effloradox]

“I thought we were meeting after lunch?” You briefly look up from your homework to see Haruhi standing uncertainly in front of you. You blink at her before looking over to the clock hanging about the library door. You'd been so invested in your maths assignment that an hour had passed by without you noticing.

“I guess I lost track of time. I’m not that hungry anyway.” You use a foot to push the seat opposite you away from the table, gesturing for your friend to sit down.

“You should go eat. I can keep your seat.”

“I actually brought lunch today.” You push yourself back from the table to reach into your bag, grabbing the bento box from its spot and lifting it onto the table. Whilst eating is usually frowned upon in Ouran’s libraries, you’ve never known anyone to be actually reprimanded for it.

“What did you bring?”

“Sushi. I was craving it this morning but now I’m not too bothered about it.” You don’t miss the way Haruhi’s eyes dart towards the bento box, everyone knows how much she loves sushi. “You can have it if you want it.”

“What? No, I couldn’t eat your lunch.” She laughs nervously as you remove the lid, revealing the contents of the box to her.

“Here, give it a try and tell me what you think.” You push the sushi towards Haruhi without even considering the action, you mind completely occupied by the maths equation you’re trying to solve. You’re so invested in the equation that you completely miss the blush that flushes over Haruhi’s features.

series masterlist

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

The Sith

Part 4

As promised, more of The Sith

This time inspired by some of these prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting I think there will be eight this time round.

***.

"Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, his stubborn Jedi closed those stunning blue eyes, his brow furrowed in persistent concentration to deny him what he knew they both craved. 

Damn the stubborn boy, he really should know better.

"Darling," he purred and pressed even closer, placing a possessive hand on the younger man's hip. The Jedi not even flinched at their close proximity but remained obstinate still. 

"Do not seek to resist me, it is pointless."

He leaned forwards until their lips were mere inches apart, finally getting a reaction, even if it was just a harsh intake of breath.

“Give in, dear one,” he coaxed him with a honey sweet voice, dripping dirty and wicked promises. Triumph rushed through him when blue eyes met his again, defeat eclipsing them along with a far more passionate emotion.

"Say it," he ordered once more, his voice nothing more than a breath.

"Yes, master."

2. 3. 4. 5.

Master posts for parts 1, 2 and 3

[apocalyp-tech-a]

#TechTober2024 - Prompt 2. Tech-o'-Lantern.

From @masksketchies festive autumn Techtober Prompt List.

This was originally just a drawing, then I was just going to give it the candle flicker effect, but then I got the crazy notion of the tactical droid spiel. I had always admired Tech, but his desperation to explain tactical droids hooked me in forever. 😂 (This is my first animation (besides a crappy but funny practice one), I'm hoping to make a little movie of a scene from one of my stories someday. A fanfic writer can dream...) @neverend-rs 🎃 @pinahallowsevecloneparty

Also added a little ficlet "The Operational Brains" featuring Wrecker and Omega:

[nuttynutcycle]

"Professor,” the student thrust up their hand, “Why can’t we utilize the heroes as makeshift police? It worked in Europe.”

 “Europe has a different political and geographical space,” the professor scribbled on the whiteboard. “And better pay for its teachers. Who can tell me anything about Venetian law enforcement?”

Several hands waved in the crowded lecture hall. The professor pointed at random.

“Venice utilizes water-based heroes. They use the canals and ocean to have an advantage over lawbreakers and are held in line through their enforcement collars.”

The student sounded like they were reading out of a textbook. “Excellent answer. Now,” the professor clapped their hands, “Could that work here?”

The same student beamed at the compliment. “Absolutely not. We have no cities based on canals or built on evenly distributed rivers to give water-based heroes an advantage. And sir,” the student continued, stifling a laugh. “Can you imagine trying to put a bracelet on an American hero? The government would never make it past congress.”

Chuckles half-heartedly rippled across the auditorium. Many students pretended they were listening or taking notes while Instagram reflected in their glasses.

“Wrong.”

The professor frowned at the interruption. “In this class, we raise our hand and explain our reasoning.” He turned toward the owner of the voice, a boy in a denim jacket in the back of the room. “Care to elaborate?”

 “They already have them.”

The professor pushed his glasses up his nose, a trickle of curiosity rising against his better judgment. He reached over to his computer and paused the lecture recording. “Do you have evidence to support this theory?”

The boy looked up from his computer and shrugged. “Does anyone here think our illustrious government would let a group of highly powerful individuals run around untethered?”

The auditorium quieted. A few hands raised in a sea of hundreds, before slowly lowering. 

The professor had to admit, that was a good point. Still... “Most heroes don’t comprehend the notion of modesty. Trust me, there’s nowhere to hide a bracelet that the cameras wouldn’t see.”

“What about MagniBoy?” One student asked. “That costume covers everything except-“

“Unfortunately for MagniBoy,” The professor interrupted before the lecture became decidedly less PG. “There was an incident last year. We now know for sure that there is absolutely no possible place for a bracelet.”

Several students nodded, some in disgust and others with smiles.

“It’s not on their bodies.” The boy in the denim spoke again. “American heroes are controlled as soon as they join a force, but they just don’t realize it.”

This was quickly verging into Reddit board theories. The professor felt a headache coming on. “Let’s not get off track- “

“Where is it then?” Another student asked.

“Did they swallow it?”

“Why wouldn’t anyone say anything about it?”

The professor sat down in his chair and prepared for the ride. If the class wanted to waste precious exam review time with theories, their loss.

“Twenty years ago, the government started investigating bracelets and mood alteration. Two years later they stopped due to public protests.” The boy smiled bitterly. “We love our heroes, and we love our rights even more. Three years after that, our heroes were injected with a tracker ‘for safety’.”

“Those trackers were removed when a hero retired.” The professor interrupted with a gentle smile. “If what you’re saying is true, retirees would notice a significant difference in mood.” Several students nodded in agreement.

The boy looked at him in near pity. “Sir, do you know what the original bracelets were made of?”

The professor remembered. His back straightened.

“Nanotech.” The boy savoured the word, savoured his captive audience. “Bit backwards, isn’t it? They found that heroes were more likely to have more health defects with the experimental tech, so they changed it to computerized ones. But,” he tapped his chin, “What if our generous government decided to inject their puppets with this same nanotechnology. What would happen?” The boy tilted his head innocently. “On a completely different note, how many heroes die from radiation poisoning? Illness? Cancer?”

The auditorium was silent.

“There used to be hero-turned-vigilantes or villains. Where did they all go?” The boy was picking up speed. 

No one was on Instagram anymore; all eyes were on him. 

“And isn’t it interesting that fifteen years ago, the cases of heroes breaking the law dropped by 80%? As did the destruction of vital buildings?”

“Oh,” another student whispered.

“They have thousands of powered people, sacrificing their lives without realizing it. Heroes sign away their personality, their life, their future.” The boy choked on a laugh. “When was the last time a hero made it to 60?”

“Young man,” the professor found his voice, “That’s enough.”

The boy’s gaze sharpened on the professor. “Sir, you were a hero before teaching. What do you think?”

[p-and-p-admin]

31 Days of Flash Fiction : Prompt 19

“Touch her, and you’ll learn exactly what is worse than death.”

Write your fic and submit it to the 31 Days of Flash Fiction 2024 Collection on AO3.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/.../31DaysofSSHGFlashFiction2024

That's it. No sign-up needed. No prompt claims. No reason to wait.

[writingamongther0ses]

Expectations

Spooky spin-off of The Princess and the Pea, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt of Invisible Guest.

When I was a child, I was told to avoid princes.

Being a princess, expected to marry a prince someday, I thought that this was silly. When I mentioned this, my mother sighed and agreed. "I want you to avoid princes with too high expectations," she revised, stroking my hair out of my face. "They will chew you up and spit you out, yanking off pieces of you so you fit their image of perfection."

Later, when I was a little older and better understood the relationship between my mother and father, I understood.

My father hated my mother. The opposite of love was indifference and that was how she felt for him, but he hated her. Truly hated her. Hated her because he was one of those princes and was forced to "settle" for her.

For years, there were songs about my father and his expectations. The children at school- I begged to be sent to public school, it was my way out of the anger in my father's gaze- sang songs when they didn't know I heard about my father. They all ended the same way.

...the final one, slept on a pea and hit her head!

When I was much older, I better understood why.

I stood inside the room. I guessed it had been a guest room once but now it was a tomb. Cobwebs and dust caked the giant bed, with mattresses and blankets piled high. In the faint light drifting from the curtains, I could see green twisting its way through.

Either pea sprouts or mold.

I was more focused on her presence.

The invisible guest. The final victim to my father and his expectations for a bride.

The princess who slept on a pea was the last straw.

[mystradepromptsandscenarios]

Mystrade Monday Prompt #6

For October 7, 2024

Character A believes they are unloveable. Character B tries to convince them otherwise.

The game is to write a flash fic this weekend and post it here (or with a link to the fic on AO3) on Monday with the hashtag Mystrade Monday.

Flash fiction is a complete story that is less than 1,000 words. 360mg is complete fic of 360 words with the last two beginning with “M” and “G” in any order. Please spread the word.

Hot tip: if you tag @mystradepromptsandscenarios , we’ll reblog it.

Don’t forget to add your fic to the Mystrade Monday Collection on AO3.

[starkraivennemad]

Noticing

“Careful…” Greg Lestrade teased quietly.

Mycroft Holmes whose Mach speed on a slow day mind was elsewhere, but always attuned to the man next to him, focused his attention. “Pardon?”

Greg blatantly looked away. “For a moment there I thought you might sing.”

“Sing!” Mycroft scoffed, “What makes you think I would do something like that?!”

“You…” Greg bit his lip in failing effort to not grin. “You were… humming. Happily, so. I’m honored you’ve knocked down those ice blocks you surround yourself with, to relax enough for that.” Greg looked as though he was about to place a hand on his forearm, but stopped himself, “Thank you.”

It was not the first time Mycroft noticed such abortive moves from Gregory.

But it was the first time he noticed.

Noticed the thing Gregory had been trying to hide from him.

Noticed how he was showing him in subtle ways now, without upsetting the wall.

Noticed when Greg sometimes retracted from that wall, if it became too cold.

Noticed Gregory was correct - the ice blocks were mostly gone.

And noticed the only person trying to rebuild them was Mycroft himself.

Years ago, after one bad relationship too many Mycroft sealed his heart away and swore never again. The blocks were the sickening touch of fear, secured away in emotional ice.

The fear of letting himself be vulnerable again.

The fear of trusting someone to not hurt him again.

Gregory was subtly showing that HE was the someone Mycroft could have those things -vulnerability, trust, more– again.

Moreover, Mycroft noticed Gregory alone had been making all the moves, patiently waiting for Mycroft to make one.

“You know how I feel! You reciprocate!” He reached for Gregory for the first time, purposely humming in happiness.

“I do. And I have… for over a year, Mycroft, but I needed you to know it for yourself...” Greg beamed at the humming and their joined hands, “…not because I told you.”

Mycroft swallowed the fear, looked the waiting man in the eyes, and mentally kicked the last ice cinderblocks between them away. “I love you. And I’d very much like for you to be mine, Gregory.”

--------------------------------- @flashfictionfridayofficial @mystradepromptsandscenarios

[antlersatmidnight]

Eat my heart out and gorge yourself on my flesh

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

The Sith

Part 4

3.

"Mhh, can you feel this?"

He pushed his hard cock against the perfect ass pressed against his groin, thrusting teasingly as he leaned forward to whisper hoarsely.

"Let me have you again."

He didn't even care about the trace of need in his voice. His Jedi was his weakness, and the strength of his desire for him would be the downfall of them both.

"Take me! I need you to make me forget everything but your name."

The desperation in the hoarse plea was evident and so intoxicating.

"I would give you everything," he vowed, sinking into tight velvety heat with a single hard thrust, setting a rhythm that would soon send them both to the brink.

And when his name, his true name, was screamed as release overtook them, he felt true freedom.

Master post