masturbatorium | this is fuckin' awesome

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this is fuckin' awesome

Open RP Post

⊛ find a character you want to play with and respond to their thread. can't find who you want? let me know!
⊛ we can make up a scenario, adapt a meme of some sort, or... something else? whatever the fuck we want.
⊛ if you need ideas, the random scenario meme has just about anything you could want.
⊛ wanna do a picture prompt? we can do some picture prompts.
⊛ FUCK YEAH WE'RE TOTALLY ROLEPLAYING RIGHT NOW!!!

Handy-Dandy Quick Links:
Vanessa Cleveland ⊛ Catty Turner ⊛ Finnick Odair ⊛ Belle Beaumont ⊛ Chloe Saunders
Commander Shepard ⊛ Piper McLean ⊛ Jordan Langley ⊛ Jaime Lannister ⊛ Eli Keaton
Sally Malik ⊛ Corey Carling ⊛ Shadow ⊛ Fenris ⊛ Meetra Surik
Revan ⊛ Keiko Nakagawa ⊛ Alyss Heart ⊛ Ava ⊛ James
Percy Jackson ⊛ Frank Zhang ⊛ Helen ⊛ Jason Grace ⊛ David Levin
April O'Neil ⊛ Galen Marek ⊛ Reyna ⊛ Jackson Swift ⊛ Jaime Reyes
Fran Zhang (AU) ⊛ Jasa Grace (AU) ⊛ Piper McLean (AU) ⊛ Gretel ⊛ Sirius Black
Cullen ⊛ Liv Durand ⊛ Maddie Moss ⊛ Daniel Bianchi ⊛ Finley Odair (AU)
Persephone Jackson (AU) ⊛ Derek Hale ⊛ Raleigh Becket ⊛ Allison Argent ⊛ Liam Hunt
Seph McCauley ⊛ Jonah Kinlock ⊛ Edward Kenway ⊛ Aveline de Grandpre ⊛ Gale Hawthone
Will Scarlet ⊛ Korra ⊛ Carswell Thorne ⊛ Scarlet Benoit

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"You heard me." There's a definite shit-eating grin on his face at this point, like he knows what he's saying is so full of it. But he can't help it. Not at all. It's fun.

His lips make their way to the flat plane of her stomach, the muscles of her abdomen, tongue circling the belly button for a moment. Like if he can do this enough, use his lips and tongue and teeth on her skin enough, he can clean her - clean himself - of them. All of them.

"You got my shirt."

"I hear you being an ass." She's terrible at remaining still, even if she's not totally obvious about it. Her hips shift, the muscles in her stomach twitching. She curls her toes and then forces them to be still, only to move again. He plays her like a freaking instrument, and she can't deny that she loves it. Internally, at least.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip and her hands finally slip away from him. He's too low down for her to touch now, anyway - what's she going to do, stroke his hair? Not her style. "You got mine, doesn't count."

It comes with the trade really, but it helps that he knows her too. It's a mixture of knowledge that comes out just right in this particular skill set.

Now that he's able to balance himself on his knees, he uses both hands more effectively. Lifting her hips with one while the other expertly finds the zipper to her skirt and undoes it. His mouth never leaves her, weaving designs across her waist to her hips. He does pull back, however, when he has to remove the ridiculous thing from her body, sliding it down her legs.

"How many did you kill before they got you into this thing anyway?"

She doesn't lift her hips to help him, but that's only because he handles her body so well that she doesn't have to, the jerk. Her arm lifts, covers her face as she starts finding it difficult to keep control of her expression. His mouth is driving her insane, which is probably impressive, considering how crazy she is already.

How many did you kill? The arm snaps away immediately, hitting the bed as the words slice through her. Johanna scrambles to sit up, away from Finnick, staring at him with a confused, accusing stare. Why bring that up now - why bring that up ever--

It takes a moment, for the rest of his sentence to sink in. She swallows, looking away from him. Not wanting to admit to her paranoid mistake. "Stupid stylist wouldn't stop crying about how I ruined his creation. I had to do something to make him shut up."

Finnick sits back on his knees when Johanna pulls away from him like that, a sigh on his lips as he watches her carefully. There's a difference between him and others. Between most Careers and the other districts. Dead bodies aren't the problem. They never have been.

He reaches out for her ankle, thumb brushing over the skin gently. Not to frighten her. Comfort. He's not an idiot, after all. And then he tugs, just as gently, pulling her back.

"And here I thought my tears were the only ones that could reach your frigid heart."

Her heart is still racing, thumping too-hard against the walls over her chest. She jumps when he touches her again, but after a moment of two of his thumb brushing and forth, she finds herself looking back at him again.

He tugs her back, and she lets him.

"They only cry louder if you hit them. Anyway, I was preoccupied."

She was enraged, actually. But it's the same difference with her, most of the time.

Finnick leans over her now that she's allowed him to tug her back. "You're not hitting them hard enough, then." Not that Finnick has hit any of the sheep before, but hit someone hard enough, and they'll go down for a little bit.

His lips brush over hers. "We're not dead yet."

"You think if I tell them Finnick Odair told me to do it, they'll let me off the hook?" She doesn't even care what she's saying anymore. It's the stupidest thing in the world, but in some ways Finnick brings some kind of safety with him as his body leans over hers again. Or comfort. Whatever. It's something that she doesn't want to let go of right now, even if she should.

His lips brush over hers, but she's nowhere near gentle as she kisses him back, one hand tangling in his hair. "I don't plan on dying at all."

It's actually a promise, in a Johanna sort of way. Their aim is to get Katniss out, but she doesn't plan on letting Finnick die, either. But she can't say that, not when they're in the heart of the Capitol. So she says what she can, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth.

"Yes." And there's nothing but a serious tone to his voice, but of course she can use him as an excuse, and they wouldn't say anything about it. He's their darling, and he has been for ten years.

That's always how they've been, two sides of the same coin.

"Yeah?" He breathes the question against her mouth as he kisses her back just as hard as she's giving. There's almost a moan in the back of his throat at the touch of her teeth. He wants to tell her he's glad, because maybe nobody else would care, but his world would be a little darker without her rain cloud in it.

He wants to tell her that he has no delusions about whether he's going to live or not, but he wants to cling to the possibility. That he will fight tooth and nail to stay alive.

His knee moves between her legs, brushing against her core instead.

"Yup." She can practically taste that moan, drinks him and his need in almost eagerly. "Little girls who tell the Capitol to go fuck themselves are in right now."

Johanna has never been in in that Capitol. Between that and the lack of a hold they have over her, it's been her protection these last few years. No one gives a shit about what Johanna Mason has to say.

Except maybe Finnick. Which is probably why she's in the position she is now, a stuttered groan spilling from her lips as heat sears through her, spreading out from her gut as his knee moves against her. "I hate you," she gasps, unable to help the way her hips jerk down, seeking more.

His lips move to the corner of her mouth, to her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin as he laughs. It's a low sound, caught deep in his throat. "Those are my favorite kind of little girls."

It's what he likes best about Johanna. What he pities, too.

His knee moves again as he grins darkly down at her. She's desperate and needy and he's the only one who can really give her what she needs. There's something a little possessive about that thought, a little dangerous and disturbing.

"I know."

The danger of his teeth so close to her throat only pushes her higher, even though there's a part of her that knows she's not in any danger. She trusts him. "You're such a creep." She's not exactly in a position to judge right now though - not that she would anyway. She knows why he is the way he is.

He moves his knee deliberately, and that grin should be a turn off, but it's not. She can feel that possessiveness. She's not supposed to want it that feeling, but when it comes to him, she does. Her fingers in his hair clench harder; Johanna grinds down against him, closer and closer to tipping over the edge. "Quit being a fucking tease."

He bites down, tasting her skin and the make up and the sweat just beneath of that thin layer of Capitol perfect. You're such a creep. He knows, and he should feel bad. There should be a layer of guilt swimming in his gut, but all he can think about is the way she feels beneath of him - hard where Annie's soft, fighting where Annie doesn't - and the sounds she makes and the fact that he'll be killing again.

Finnick's hard, throbbing.

His hands move down her body again, and he removes his knee mid-grind, a laugh in the back of his throat because he knows she's not going to like that as much. But his fingers are hooking into her underwear and tugging them off. He doesn't even bother to take a look, his fingers sliding up her slit as he buries his face in her neck as he moans.

She's soaked.

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