#pseudolife

[everharrt]

gnaws on

"You're going to leave drool on my collar."

The sneer is somewhat visible on his face.

Congratulations - you've evoked an emotion from Esmé Everhart.

[dctrreids]

C - A - T bc i am nothing if not predictable.

sexy abc's.

C ─ Condoms. Do they use them ?  Do they have a preference ( color, flavour, etc… ) ? Have they ever had an accident ?  Would they continue anyway, if they’ve forgotten/run out of them ?

he's never not worn a condom in his two times of having sex. reid is far too mindful of safety and "protocol" for lack of a better word than to forget. i think it depends on the partner if he'd continue if he ran out of them. it'd have to be caught in the moment && at the direction of his partner in that moment. he's never had an accident, thankfully.

A ─ After care. Do they take care of each other after sex ? How ?

he's a big aftercare person. however the moment transforms him he immediately turns back into reid the bean and goes back to being wildly attentive to his partner. getting them water, asking if they're all right, just generally spending time with them. maybe a shower together, definitely cuddling. he's a BIG cuddler.

T ─ Turn ons & offs. What do they do to turn each other on ?  Is there something the other does that turns them off ? Have they told them about it ?

exploration is really the biggest thing for him. he's only had two sexual partners in his life by the time he hits thirty so there's a lot he doesn't know that he likes. just a lot of theory vs. practice. with that in mind, there's a pretty strong idea of things he wouldn't be down for and he'd be very up front about setting those hard limits with someone he's going to be intimate with. it takes a lot to get reid in that intimate place, especially because people have ridiculed him for his personal and physical appearance at very important developmental stages of his life. he's not self-conscious until he is, and when he is it's pretty debilitating. so he's not going to lose agency or autonomy over himself in an intimate setting.

also, meow.

[entrepy]

David is going to give Bucky one ounce of affection - a long moment of silence of staring at him, eye to eye, from inches away. And then he's going to head butt him. Like a cat. "You stink."

David is a cat. He’s been stuck in this apartment with Bastard and the rest of the cats for so long. And Bucky likes cats. ‘ Don’t shove your face in my armpit then, ’ he says and winds his arms around David’s shoulders.

[entrepy]

🪀 "Steve," And it's spoken kindly, almost affectionately. Sweet tempered. "That bread expired two days ago, stop eating it." from @pseudolife .

It's after dinner but he'd gotten hungry, leaving the bed in the dark to go hunt down some food in the kitchen. He'd gotten his hands on some bread that smelt just fine, if a little stale, but nothing a bit of light toasting won't fix up. He's waiting, leaning over the counter, armed with knife, butter, and jelly, staring at the toaster when Fujiko joins him. He tugs up his shorts that had slipped low on his hips that he hadn't paid any mind to earlier, but does now in her company. Had he woken her ? ' Bread doesn't expire. It's fine. I checked. ' He straightens, his grip on the counter rotating as he faces her. ' You hungry ? '

[bruisednotes-a]

                     *⭒🢖 FROM 𝄈 PATRICK HARPER ( @pseudolife )                                *⭒🢖 TO 𝄈  KYLE GARRICK                                   ❴  24 .   a  kiss  on  the  neck . ❵

           KYLE LIKES TO THINK HIMSELF  a man with a decent amount of self control. he's a well-trained and seasoned soldier, armed with a sharp mind, strong will, lethal skill, and nerves of steel. it's an area of pride for him, how efficient he is at his job, his ability to remain level-headed in times of stress or life-threatening crisis, even if people around him are falling apart. he may not be a legend or as revered as ghost or even price, but he will certainly always be steady as a rock for his team, a stream that will forever flow through even the smallest of cracks. this is who kyle "gaz" garrick is.

                                    until patrick harper is in the room.

          it starts out innocent enough, soft smiles and fleeting affection while they talk work, ironing out details of their next op  ( throwing out the direction and parts of the plan that were inefficient at best, out right fucking  stupid  at worst ).  trick's close, the way he always is, a warm, adoring hand on the side of kyle's neck born of an almost absent want for contact that trick may or may not be aware of and that kyle is probably  too  aware of, despite making no visible reaction. they're working, and kyle is a focused and serious man while he's working, husband or no husband.

          but then the discussion comes to a close, and there's lips pressed to the side of his neck, and kyle feels like there's electricity crackling along his skin. honestly, he isn't so sure how much of this is genuine chaste affection, and how much of it is trick playing a little game of teasing to test just how well he can resist the urge to misbehave; either way, there's no way he wouldn't notice the audible catch in his breath, and the brief lock of his body. even less of a chance, when he melts like butter in the next second, shoulders relaxing and his head falling to the side in a silent request for  more.  his eyelids droop, but don't close. his lips part but don't immediately speak. and when they do,    “   if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're up to no good. but that can't be true, since you're a good boy, right sir ?   ” 

[bruisednotes-a]

          *⭒🢖 FROM 𝄈 WYATT THORNE ( @pseudolife )                       *⭒🢖 TO 𝄈  DONOMIE COLE

❴  also blahblah wyatt drunk and picking up domi and physically carrying him out of a bar. please note he's not taking no for an answer. ❵

           HE SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISED.  this isn't the first time wyatt's made the decision to leave for the both of them, and it definitely won't be the last ⸺ but geez, he usually at least gets the chance to say  bye  to the people they came with, hung out with, that are now watching wyatt carry him out the door with looks of both amusement and slight twinge of concern. wyatt's definitely gonna have to suffer through a few knowing but curious looks on his next shift, and donomie's almost disappointed that he most likely won't be there to see it. but it's that thought that has him beaming instead of protesting, wiggling his fingers at jack and parker, still seated at their booth, in a gleeful little goodbye on their way out the door.

          when they're finally outside, in the cool, slightly damp pittsburgh air, though, he's reaching down to slap and squeeze one of wyatt's asscheeks, equal parts playful and indignant.    “   i can  walk,  dickhead.   ”    he's not   quite  sure how true that is, considering he hasn't yet been given the chance, but that isn't the point. the point is they're getting weird looks and uncomfortable glances and murmurs he can't hear but can feel in the eyes on them.    “   or do you just plan on carrying me the whole way home like a sack of potatoes ?   ”   

          it's protesting for the sake of protesting, really. being a brat just for the fun of it, just to push the few buttons that are safe to be pushed out in the open. he knows what comes next, when they get home ⸺ looks forward to it, even ⸺ but donomie cole wouldn't be donomie cole if he played along that easily, now would he ?

[bruisednotes-a]

       *⭒🢖 FROM 𝄈 WYATT THORNE ( @pseudolife )          *⭒🢖 TO 𝄈  DONOMIE COLE

      ❴  “I’ve never hated anything more that’s come out of your mouth.” ❵

           “   I DON'T THINK THAT'S TRUE.   ”      donomie can think of quite a few things that he's said that  he  even hates came out of his mouth. things that many people would find taboo or repulsive  ...  or just straight up fucking  odd.  but wyatt ?  wyatt's used to him saying stupid shit, used to his antics and often unfiltered chatter. donomie wonders if he'd get bored without it, if the silence would bother him, if donomie ever lost his mind decided to move out, get his own place again. he wouldn't admit it, obviously, but donomie has a feeling he would.

          he sits up from where he's slouched against the arm of the couch, hands flat on the cushions as he leans into wyatt's space with his usual impish grin  (  a little teeth, tip of his tongue only just poking out beteween them  )  and a playful glint in his eye.   “   i've asked you about marriage. i've mentioned  kids  multiple times. i've threatened to move out and leave you  all by your lonesome  in your quiet, sterile apartment.   ”  

          he hadn't meant it, obviously ⸺ any of it. despite spending an amount of money donomie doesn't even want to try to guess on a ring, the thought of actual marriage seems to send wyatt into some kind of introspective, spiraling crisis. the thought of kids makes donomie want to scream and wyatt threaten violence  ( to "rip out your ovaries before you even got the chance to get pregnant"  ).  and as for the last one  ...  well. donomie wouldn't be going anywhere, even if he wanted to. not for long, anyway; that  much has already been made perfectly clear.

          but that direction of thought is surely gonna lead to trouble and spark a storm in wyatt's eyes donomie isn't quite sure he can weather at the moment, still perched on his  " princess pillow ".  so he quickly changes course, resting his chin on wyatt's shoulder.   “   and  i think what i asked for in the shower this morning definitely tops the  mountain dew enema.   ”  

[bruisednotes-a]

      *⭒🢖 FROM 𝄈 molly owens ( @pseudolife )         *⭒🢖 TO 𝄈  izal ingellvar                     ❴  “Get on the casting couch.”  ❵

           A MAN WITH A WEAKER SPIRIT  might challenge being ordered around this way, might feel offended, emasculated, or whatever else — but not izal, never izal. in fact, it has blood rushing south, stirring excitement in his gut on its way down; it quickens his heart rate, shortens his breaths. and maybe some would debate that this  is  him being emasculated, but they'd be fucking stupid. masculinity has nothing to do with this, and it doesn't belong here. all that matters now is is them here, together, enjoying each other in anyway they know how.

          and typically, that is exactly what follows  ...  well, anything she tells him to do, really. she's yet to be wrong, and he is completely content to put himself in her hands — both figuratively and literally. so he has no qualms, nothing but burning, deep-set, horny excitement for whatever is going on in that wicked head of hers — molly owens, his own personal kryptonite, weak to everything she says, everything she does. never in his life had anyone bewitched him, had him so enamored and melting, as she does.

          so yeah, he's happily following her lead, taking step after step backwards until he feels the edge of the couch bump his calves. he flops down, knees falling apart, arms spread wide and thrown over the back. his gaze is intense and heated, despite his hooded lids.  “    am i auditioning ?  will it be recorded, kept on file for  ...  later consideration ?   ”