Speaking of smut have some snippets I wrote because I keep forgetting I can just share those lmao. These are all oc ships and all lf them are AU’s 😂 All of them either belong to me or my bf @crackedblackinc !
My skills at writing sm/ut are not 100% but you know what I sure did try with these lmao.
Pairings and stuff:
1. Ilarion Vadislov (mine, Russian they/them, wears too much pink) and Rin Hastings (he/him, English, tattooed sad man ) - Pacific Rim AU - Pretty Vanilla lmao
2. Father Charlie Robineau (mine, they/them, vampire, fake priest) and Mose McCullough (he/him, depressed cowboy, also vampire!) - MOTW AU - Vanilla also??
3. Bellamy Kaldwin (mine, he/him) and Hugo Truelove (he/him, too sweet for his own good) - Darkest Timeline AU (from our project, Melrose!)- Mentions of getting pregnant?? Vanilla lmao
4. This one is mostly a concept lmao I got so tired at the end, it was like..midnight RIP. - Hazel Coldbrook (they/he, aasimar, mine) + Charlie Robineau (they/them, drow, mine) + Maxime (he/him, aasimar) + Victory (he/him, eladrin) - D& D AU - Size Difference, Monster fuc/king sort of? one of the aasimar has a tentacle di/ck lol
Ilarion isn’t sure what made them move first. Maybe it was that deep sadness that permeates Rin’s handsome features, just goading them to give him something to smile about. Maybe it wasn’t that at all but the need for touch. The two of them having danced around the subject of crushes for a week now and every nerve under Ilarion’s skin is aflame. All they know is that Rin’s chapped lips crack further beneath their kiss —no matter how gentle they are— and they can taste blood on their tongue.
But he makes the softest whine under them, reaching through all of their pink curls to grasp their shoulder. And gods do they want to fuck him then. Have him feel the deep, incurable ache they feel threatening to pulverize their being. They want him to come apart calling out their name, messily and theirs.
“S-shit,” Rin curses under his breath, pinned to the dorm wall behind him, “Ilari— I—!”
They grind their hips down into his in response, getting a hot rush of excitement from his whine.
“I am going to fill you until you think of nothing else,” they growl, “You said you wanted distraction, yeah?”
“If I can’t walk tomorrow—.”
Ilarion cuts Rin off as they lick and nip along the shell of his ear, rolling their hips softer this time. Trying to tone it down, even for a moment. Would hate to scare him off.
“If you cannot walk, we will pretend sick and fuck some more. I will make love to you until you know you deserve that,” their tone becomes tender as they take a breath.
The response is music to Ilarion’s ears.
“Please.”
———
Charlie drags their index finger along their length, pretending. Imagining it’s their cowboy, who is still soaking or showering or— god they’re not sure anymore. All they know is that they couldn’t help themself.
Their hair is spread out around them in a halo of soft browns, the light from the lamp on the beside table casting shadows across their body as it arches into any touch at all. A soft moan escapes their throat that might be just a mite too loud, but Charlie doesn’t care. If they were human their pale skin would be slick with sweat and flushed deep crimson, but at the moment they chase any fragment of scenario.
Mose’s tongue, his mouth finally around them. Fingers spreading them wide and open so they can take him. Or maybe they’d be told not to touch anything and he’d fuck their mouth, smirking. Again there is a whine at the memory of him wearing that shit eating grin. Knowing he’s made them a shivering, whimpering mess.
“Mm, now ain’t that a pretty picture?” a deep, american southern accent sends a jolt up Charlie’s spine.
Standing there, half naked and smiling wickedly is their cowboy. Eyes following the slow stroke of Charlie’s finger as they shiver, everything off but their shirt and that white collar.
“I..I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout you,” they gasp, unashamed but unsure if he actually wants to watch, “I..I can move it to—.”
“Nah, make some more of those pretty sounds for me darlin’.”
A slow, shuddering breath leaves Charlie as their hooded blue eyes watch Mose uncover himself, definitely beginning to harden. Rivulets of water run down his powerful thighs, catch his curly happy trail in the lantern light.
“Will you help me, *cher*?”
Practically a prayer and they know Mose can tell, even as he sways his toned hips their way. Damn this man for being so alluring. But instead of a sharp quip and no follow through, after so many years of wondering how it’d feel, Mose settles a calloused hand around them. It’s enough to send Charlie into a twitch and a cry wrenches itself from their mouth. It’s almost enough to distraft them from the deep tone next to their ear.
“It would be my pleasure.”
—
A month has passed since Bell has had time to tend to his ache. Between helping Hazel plan his proposal and playing various concerts for festivals he’s just had no alone time. It didn’t help his blood struck him in the middle of it, though it was a slight relief he was not yet carrying. Even with all the cramps and feeling sick. But now, curled up in Hugo’s lap as he reads to him—all he can think about is making love. Being filled and satisfied.
He blames a combination of hormones and reading too many of those awful romance novels he keeps checking out. Yves always manages to get him the filthiest ones. It’s like he knows, the bastard.
With a burning heat in his freckled cheeks, Bell looks up as Hugo turns a page. Those fingers lingering on the paper, large and soft. His hands are large, good for keeping his hips in place. A memory flits behind Bell’s golden brown eyes; ghosts of Hugo’s hands spreading his legs and a fingertip teasing his entrance. Then pressing a perfect, thick finger deep within him. How many times had Hugo made him finish that night? Bell thinks he lost count at three. It was important to have him loose and ready if they were to concieve, but he just kept reaching that edge. And his husband gently pushed him off each time.
“Doing alright? You a little red, are you too warm?”
Hugo’s voice cuts through Bell’s daydream and he tries to find it within himself not to look too embarrassed. But he desperately wants to be honest with him and feel those hands again. Making a mess of him, getting him ready.
“I..I want you so badly,” he sighs, and then feels as if he will burst from how needy he sounds. At least the silence isn’t too prolonged, as Hugo laughs softly and he bookmarks his page.
“Daydreaming again?”
His breath is warm against Bell’s ear, sending goose bumps all down the back of his neck. Gods, he needs something to fill him. Push him over that edge. Thankfully, Hugo knows just what he wants it seems. Cool palms spread his thighs, a hand slowly beginning to descend along Bell’s side. Kisses bloom along his jaw.
“You have such big hands,” he murmurs, titling his head to give Hugo better access. Quickly those kisses turn white hot, making Bell squirm and the most filthy sound falls from his lips.
——
There’s so much going on but Hazel doesn’t mind one bit. Kisses were shared, hips rolled, sounds made. It wasn’t until Victor ducked his head toward them that they were accutely aware of how much sound they all made. Then they were distracted by the hot, wriggling heat of Victory’s tongue. Lapping up all of the rose gold dripping between his thighs with reverence and adoration. As if he had tasted nothing better in the universe. Flashes of blue as he stained his mouth more.
Just as he tries to catch his breath and settle into a rhythm, Victory pulls away. But before he can whine and reach for him, Charlie’s slender fingers began working him open. A dream come true, he does writhe on the large bed and is gifted by a soft chuckle he knows too well. As a wave of heat and tightly coiled pleasure wash over him, Hazel glances over at his husband. Maxime has Victor bent over, large hands keep him spread as he fucks him. Drips of blue begin to smear on the sheets below, and there’s a slight bump in Victor’s stomach every time Maxime finishes a thrust.
“He’s so big..!”
Both Hazel and Charlie laugh, the former nodding. A thread of fire twisting delightfully in his stomach, remembering when Maxime filled him for the first time. He ached and stretched, taking all of him and his ridges.
A christmas present for my boyfriend! Our ocs Maxime (left, belongs to Charlie @crackedblackinc) and Hazel (right, mine)!
Note: that is a star of david necklace because Hazel is Jewish, but both my bf and I and our ocs have a mixed religion household
That vampire priest oc I was talking about earlier also has a PA and best friend that is an amateur ghost hunter, and is Jewish!! They’re basically in their job now to fulfill requirements for a theology course in college, and other reasons. Their name is Hazel and I love them dearly.
