The lack of a moon always put him on edge in a very particular way- distant was the rage and anger brought by the bright full moon and instead replaced with a needing ache in his body. Melancholy yet anxious, unable to hold still for too long, the uncomfortable feeling of clothes on hot skin were familiar during the full moon as well but spurred by a much different need. He longed for particular company, for relief from the lust that burned in the pit of his stomach and ate away at all other urges like fire. He ached for any relief, deciding to be a bit more bold in his particular 'hunt'.
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[Oh, we're talking about oral? Have a dumb headcanon I came up with while writing my NabooruxHalsin smut.
As much as he does enjoy it, it's probably rare for Halsin to have oral performed on him because he's too worried about servicing his partner to let them, basically. He's essentially too busy thinking about his partner's needs and making THEM feel good over leaving space for his own, "selfish" pleasure.]
Hmm~ How about Destiel thinking they've got the bunker to themselves tonight after looking forward to it all week? Dean's been holding in preparation, ready to seek Cas out when he unexpectedly crosses paths with Gabriel in the hallway. Gabriel starts teasing a flustered Dean.
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Send me 💤 for my muse to have a dirty dream about your muse | Still accepting
Hot Rod is doing... something? He loses the thread of it when there are arms around his middle and a chassis pressed against his back. The tips of his spoiler wings dip, making space as Allen tucks his face against the back of Hot Rod's neck.
"Hi to you, too." Hot Rod's voice goes slightly breathy towards the end as Allen starts to mouth along the cables of his neck. He lets his head tip forward.
"Hi," Allen finally offers, somehow sounding impish with just the one syllable. "You're not busy, right?" he asks, tone trying and failing to be casual even as one of his hands wanders downwards along Hot Rod's midsection.
"Nope," Hot Rod replies, despite the fact that he is, in fact, on shift at that moment. Many details are unimportant; that's one of them. He folds his arms on the table and shifts his stance, thighs spreading obligingly as Allen palms his closed modesty plating. "Got some plans?" he wonders dryly.
"Enacting spousal privileges," Allen answers cheerfully. "Unless, I suppose, if you don't want--oho!" He cuts himself off with a laugh as Hot Rod's modesty panels slide open in a decidedly pointed manner. "That's what I thought!" he coos, sliding his hand down until he can grind his palm against Hot Rod's anterior node, slowly, but with steadily increasing pressure.
Hot Rod sighs slowly, hips jerking, though he's not really at the best angle to grind into that pressure in kind. When he tries to move, though, Allen's arm around his middle tightens, keeping him right where he is. He doesn't have any time to dwell on it, though.
He hears Allen's modesty panels open, and a second later Allen's spike presses against the mesh of his valve, sliding between the folds but not yet dipping inside. Hot Rod's plating trembles, his fans click on, and his spoiler shivers.
"Cute," Allen purrs, stilling for the moment it takes to appreciate the sight.
Hot Rod leans his weight onto his arms and arches his back, shoving his aft expectantly back against Allen's hips. "Uh huh, sure. You gonna--fuck." Whatever he was going to say is lost, immediately forgotten, as Allen sheaths his spike in one, quick thrust.
"That's the idea," Allen replies, trying for a light tone and not quite managing it as his hips shift against Hot Rod's. He draws out slowly, curls his hands around Hot Rod's hips, and tugs him back to meet the next thrust. Hot Rod's fists clench against his forearms, and his spoiler wings twitch with each thrust.
"Gonna--ohhhfuckdothatagain--gonna lo-ose talking--hah--privileges again, if you... if you're not careful," Hot Rod threatens, though it is possibly the least threatening he has ever sounded.
As if in response to that threat, Allen adjusts his hold on Hot Rod's hips, forcing him up onto his toes and shifting his weight forward, onto his chassis instead of his arms. Arms still folded on the table, Hot Rod buries his face against them, panting as Allen sets a hurried pace, probably not too keen on the idea of someone walking in on them before they're done.
Charge buzzes beneath Hot Rod's plating and he can taste ozone. Wordlessly, he whines when Allen slows. Allen shushes him and wraps a hand around one of his thighs, lifting his leg up and to the side, adjusting the angle of his next thrust just so.
Hot Rod's vision pixelates for a second, his voice glitches, and--
Hot Rod's alarm pings and he comes online gasping Allen's name and with condensation beading on his armor, charge crackling between the seams. He silences his alarm, then checks his chronometer anyway. He has an early shift, but... well, he's got a bit of time. It would be weird if he showed up on time, after all.
He rolls onto his stomach, snaps his modesty panels open, and shoves a hand between his legs.
Okay old j.m/c.asey music post I mentioned. Its in first person sorry lol. explict lyrics. This was crack from months ago but the more I sit on it the more I feel like smth like this did happen. 😭😭😭
So I actually had really "cringe" music taste in the early 2000s. Like. I listened to Jeffree St.r unironically.(i hate him) I still listen to S.mon Curtis pretty religiously along my goth, emo, pop-punk, puck rock, pop, pop-country, alt rock, eletropop, metal... idk a lot? catalogue. And like... ji.m is so into music but he only really likes soft rock in canon (from what I've seen) which is fine I do love Sn.ow Patrol and Tr.avis but I'm just so in love with the idea that he first talked to me because I was so invested in music.
But wasn't ready at all for the answers I gave him.
One day early into me working at dm he finally asks what I'm listening to, and with absolutely no shame at all I show him my ipod is playing Ice Cream by j.free s.tar (I know that song didn't come out until like. 2007 but yk this is my fantasy /j). He looks at it and is like. "I have NO idea what that is." To himself. But he says cool right and we move on.
He goes home and pulls up the song and he's like. "Oh, it's like, electric pop... crunkcore...?" He has 0 idea what crunkcore is he puts it on and you know his adhd ass is not hearing those lyrics the first time.
He's not entirely sure it's his thing but he leaves it on while he gathers up his laundry but he genuinely wants to know about the music I listen to. But he gains sentience and auditory processing when it gets to the 'I wanna s your d" verse. And like. He knows me as like his quiet polite coworker who's always like 🥺 at everyone and never does anything bold and doesn't bother anyone. So when he processes the lyrics AND that he's been playing this song out loud where his roommate can hear he's like.
So he turns it lower but he's like. SO surprised that like. I just TOLD him I was listening to that. He downloads js's entire discography he listens through it and he kinda hates it. But he's like. Not everything has to be for me.
The next day he comes into work and asks what I'm listening to again. And I say outloud "oh, it's Blackout by Brea.the Car.olina!" (This song still hits btw I am not sorry~)
So once again he is like "oh cool" and goes home and he googles. And he's like. OK another electric kinda crunkcore band. He listens to Blackout and he finds it tolerable (more than the rest of their stuff which he does binge)
He comes back next day and I'm listening to more fucking crunkcore. The M.llionares this time. I show him on my ipod that "I want you in my bed" is playing. And Ji.m is like. Does this man listen to anything else? He's SAID he likes other stuff. Why is it always crunkcore.
So he goes home and looks up the m.llionaires and this is like the WORST thing he's ever experienced in his life. Like this girls are giving him a headache. He's SO confused but does eventually find out via MySpace that the band was like, originally a joke/parody and it starts to make way more sense to him.
Eventually he notices pattern where he realizes that if I show him my ipod instead of telling him when I'm listening to a song that's explicit in a sexual way. So he starts fencing those songs from his roommate 😭😭 but he keeps listening to EVERY artist I tell him. Even when he hates it. But it's all either crunk core, electro pop, dance, or simialr.
So one day he's finally like. "Didn't you say once you listen to punk rock?"
And i'm like "Yeah !!! I do!!! What's up?"
And j.im explains that he's asked me what I was listening to every single day for like. 2 weeks. And every single time it was crunkcore or eletropop or simialr. And I'm like "Oh, yeah, well because I'm at work."
And he is like "What does that mean?"
And I just really candidly explain to him that while I do enjoy those genres and I DO listen to it casually, due to my aut.ism I mal.daptive daydream, so when I listen to music at work it can't have like... any lyrical substance at all or otherwise I'll black out for like four hours into a fantasy world and nothing will get done.
