We all masturbate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's also something most prefer to keep private. But sometimes, people forget to knock while we're in the middle of things, and awkwardness ensues.
* Post with your character's name and fandom in the subject line * Others reply, stumbling in on you. * You pick a reaction from the list below. (Or roll 1-10!) * PROFIT!
REACTIONS:
➊ EMBARRASSMENT Yeah, someone just caught you in a very private act and you kind of wish the ground would swallow you up. Now.
➋ ANGER How dare someone barge in on you without knocking! You'll give them a piece of your mind right now.
➌ EXCITEMENT/EXHIBITIONISM happens to be a major turn-on for you, so you'll just continue. Maybe even ask them to give you a hand, you never know...
➍ APATHY Big deal, it's not like they've been living in a bubble where they never knew masturbation existed, and if they were they had to find out about it sometime.
➎ SQUICK Either it was a family member who just walked in on you or you just feel so utterly dirty at having been caught doing something so personal.
➏ DELAYED reaction You didn't even notice they were there until after you finished.
➐ DERAILED REACTION Oh no you've been--what is that on their head? Wait, the world's ending now? D-did you just see that unicorn? Worry about being caught later, figure out what the hell is going on first.
➑ FRUSTRATION COME ON, EVERY TIME!
➒ RELIEF Thank GOODNESS someone came by! Otherwise you'd have had to stop and go grab that toy/pillow/remote for the annoying stereo yourself. Also they could maybe swap discs because this movie isn't really doing it for you. What do you mean it's inappropriate? It's not like you're asking them to watch.
[Pressed body-close like this she fills his world until there's nothing else only her scent her skin her fingers moving with the honed and delicate precision of scalpels through his hair against the outline of his skull; her touches echo there. She's all he ever needs and wants, to leave would be unthinkable, that he'd ever dreamed of anything else rings hollow like a distant lie (independent desires crushed out of him by years and years of living this pathetic shadow of a life).
His heart beats so hard it hurts, a dull and shallow ache in his chest that only deepens with the casual derogation of her words (worthless trash, he knows he'll never measure up to the high bright pinnacle of her exacting standards). But there's no time for him to linger over that. Not with her voice commanding him and like a marionette on a string his chin rises without pause or hesitation. There is never any question that he'd have it in him to disobey.
Like some small animal caught in the headlight's glare he meets her eyes and the reflective shield of his glasses serves as no protection at all (she sees him, she has his measure knows him right down to his core). For the briefest moment her words hang heavy in the fraction of space that remains between them, thoughts a frantic scrabbling as he tries to formulate some kind of response but then just like that (the graceful swoop of a hunting bird) her lips are pressed against the irregular line of his mouth and he feels lost.
Something jumps and jitters in him, the uncertain lurch from stomach to throat, that sensation that comes over you the moment before a fall. He stands there pinned and paralised by the depth and width of his own fear, hands curling and uncurling at his sides in an act of abject defenselessness but he can't have that, oh no. Her instructions had been clear.
And so he returns the press of lips with the kind of tentative uncertainty that speaks all too plainly of his inexperience]
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bakerstreet2013-06-25 08:28 pm
no subject
[Pressed body-close like this she fills his world until there's nothing else only her scent her skin her fingers moving with the honed and delicate precision of scalpels through his hair against the outline of his skull; her touches echo there. She's all he ever needs and wants, to leave would be unthinkable, that he'd ever dreamed of anything else rings hollow like a distant lie (independent desires crushed out of him by years and years of living this pathetic shadow of a life).
His heart beats so hard it hurts, a dull and shallow ache in his chest that only deepens with the casual derogation of her words (worthless trash, he knows he'll never measure up to the high bright pinnacle of her exacting standards). But there's no time for him to linger over that. Not with her voice commanding him and like a marionette on a string his chin rises without pause or hesitation. There is never any question that he'd have it in him to disobey.
Like some small animal caught in the headlight's glare he meets her eyes and the reflective shield of his glasses serves as no protection at all (she sees him, she has his measure knows him right down to his core). For the briefest moment her words hang heavy in the fraction of space that remains between them, thoughts a frantic scrabbling as he tries to formulate some kind of response but then just like that (the graceful swoop of a hunting bird) her lips are pressed against the irregular line of his mouth and he feels lost.
Something jumps and jitters in him, the uncertain lurch from stomach to throat, that sensation that comes over you the moment before a fall. He stands there pinned and paralised by the depth and width of his own fear, hands curling and uncurling at his sides in an act of abject defenselessness but he can't have that, oh no. Her instructions had been clear.
And so he returns the press of lips with the kind of tentative uncertainty that speaks all too plainly of his inexperience]