#fanfic by eiluned

[eiluned]

Fic: Dangerous [BG3; Astarion/Tav, Explicit]

by eiluned

Read on AO3

Summary: It grows in his mind, the thought of coming inside her. What would it feel like to let go, to lose control in the sweet heat of her body?

Tags: Astarion/Tav, porn with feelings, mild CW for Astarion briefly thinking about his sexual trauma.

Notes: The continuing smutty adventures of Tavriel and Astarion. This one's set in act 1. Thanks to Amanda for the beta read!

If you're new to my stuff, Tavriel is my high elf bard, and I'm slowly writing up her romance with Astarion (and later, their romance with Halsin).

Comments encourage me to write faster. I'd love to hear what you think!

~

The first time he fucks Tavriel, he's shocked to find himself enjoying it.

He's fucked or been fucked by hundreds. Sex is rote, repetitive, something to tolerate, something he has to do so he won't have to be whipped or locked in a crypt or otherwise tortured. The physical pleasure is there sometimes, but it's usually not enough to overcome the distaste or revulsion or sheer boringness of it all.

But Tav is playful, teasing, seductive in a way he's not used to being on the receiving end of. And she's objectively attractive, with her beautiful face and striking green eyes and the soft curls of black hair streaked through with wine-purple, the surprising curves of her petite body and the fullness of her breasts. It's no real chore to sleep with her, to use sex to ingratiate himself with her, but he wasn't expecting to get swept up in the pleasure of it.

She rolls them over, spreading her legs so he can settle between them, and her moan as he drives his cock back into her makes pleasure twist up at the base of his spine. Her hips lift to meet his thrusts, and her hands slide up his chest, fingertips teasing his nipples. Her body is hot, and his own soaks up that warmth so that it feels a bit like standing in the sun when he presses himself against her fully.

With a smile that curls one side of her lush mouth, she lifts her chin, baring her neck in a blatant invitation. And how can he say no? She offers herself so sweetly, so fully, and he can't resist.

Her breath hitches in her throat when his fangs pierce her skin, and her cunt tightens around him as he draws blood from the little wounds into his mouth. Heat floods his body with the first taste of her, and oh, but she tastes different than the last time he drank from her, richer, more luscious. He knows she gets aroused when he bites her; he can hear her heartbeat change, smell it on the air, but he hadn't realized that he could taste it in her blood. It was sweet, the flavor of her desire, a smaller component of her taste before but now it overwhelms him, bursting on his tongue like honeyed wine.

She shudders, grinding against him with a cry as she suddenly comes, and just as suddenly, all the pleasure that had been coiling up inside him unwinds.

Gasping, he rises onto his knees, pulling out of her a split second before an orgasm rips through him. It's shocking how good it feels, especially when her warm hand wraps around his cock, stroking him as he spurts seed onto her belly and breasts.

He can't remember the last time he came so hard, the last time he let himself be overwhelmed like this. It feels dangerous, but it's too good for him to care in that moment.

--

"Couldn't get enough?"

Her voice is a purr, her clever hands unlacing his trousers, and she smirks at him when he arches into her touch.

He's supposed to be in control here, but his body responds to her without his brain's input. And that's dangerous, so he catches her wrists and puts them behind her back before kissing her hard.

He can't lose control again, not if he wants to keep the scales balanced in his favor.

But her body is warm and pliant, breasts molding to the shape of his hands, her cunt wet and hot. He fucks her on her hands and knees, working her clit with his fingers until she comes with a hoarse moan.

And he's there just as suddenly as the last time, pulling out and coming on her back.

It's dangerous, but it's so good that he doesn't want to stop. He wants more.

--

It grows in his mind, the thought of coming inside her. What would it feel like to let go, to lose control in the sweet heat of her body? To watch her walk back to camp and know his cum is soaking her underclothes? 

He's never come inside anyone, not that he can remember. He never wanted to; it would have felt like he was giving too much of himself. It was his one way of maintaining his sense of self while out doing Cazador's bidding.

But he isn't doing that bastard's bidding now. He is fucking Tavriel because he wants to. Because it will ensure that she will have his back when the time comes. Because it feels good, even muddled up with all the pain and guilt that he can't seem to escape. Because he wants her.

And he wants to know how it feels to come inside of her.

The thought becomes an obsession, one that he only entertains in the privacy of his tent, his cock in his hand and his eyes clenched shut, thinking of nothing but her: the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair. Her throaty gasps, the way she moans his name when she comes…

He remembers how it feels to sink into her cunt, how wet with desire she is, how wet she gets for him. The clenching, rippling feel of her climax, the way she clutches at his back or his arms or his ass as she writhes against him. He imagines how it would feel to drive his cock deep and let go, to spill inside the grasping, delicious heat of her body. 

He bites back a gasp and comes, hips bucking, heels digging into his bedroll, his seed splattering in ropes onto his chest. 

Emotions roil in his head, but he doesn't want to deal with them. He has a plan; he'll stick to it.

He wipes himself clean and stares at the ceiling of his tent.

—

She’s bent forward, hands gripping the cave wall, as he fucks her from behind. Her skin glows with a sheen of sweat in the lantern light, warm like sunlight in the depths of the Underdark, and he feels desire winding up tight in his body.

“Gods, yes,” she breathes, arching her back and thrusting against him. “Astarion…”

Her hand is working between her legs, and he can feel the tension building again in her body. He’s already made her come on his tongue–he tries to not think about how delicious she tastes when she loses control against his mouth–and it’s clear she wants to come on his cock, too. 

And gods, but he wants to come with her, to come inside her, to fill her up while she shudders around him. This isn’t part of his plan, but to the hells with the plan. He’s so wrapped up in her body, in her, in her pleasure and his own, that he forgets himself. 

Brushing her hand aside, he strokes her clit firmly, driving into her sweet cunt. “Fuck,” she gasps, pressing her back against his chest. “Yes…”

“I want to come inside you,” he groans against her ear, his hips snapping against her ass, one hand working her closer to her peak while his other arm snakes around her torso, grasping her breast. 

She makes a soft sound, a little “oh” of surprise. Her cunt starts to flutter around him, and gods, he’s so close, too. “Please, Tav,” he moans, grinding her body between his cock and his fingertips. “Please let me come inside you, please, please–“

“Yes,” she gasps, her hands clutching at his forearms.

She cries out as pleasure overwhelms her, shuddering in his arms, and he follows her into oblivion, his own body wracked with ecstasy the likes of which he hasn’t felt in centuries. His cock jerks, spilling his seed as deep inside of her as he can possibly go. Her cunt squeezes him, milking him, their bodies spasming together until every last drop of pleasure is wrung from them. 

They stay like that for a long moment, clutching and grasping at each other, until her legs start to shake with strain. She lets out a throaty little laugh as he pulls out, bracing herself against the rock as she catches her breath. “Fuck, Astarion,” she says breathlessly, giving him a sly grin over her shoulder. “That was incredible.”

He can see his cum starting to slide down the inside of her thighs, and it sends a jolt of desire through his already-sated body. And a strange feeling, too, one that’s unfamiliar but nearly overwhelming. Possessiveness?

He’s startled by the intensity of it, the way seeing his seed between her legs makes him want to yank her into his arms and never let her go, to take her over and over and listen to her cry out his name.

"You know," she says, turning to him, sweat gleaming on her naked body, "I like it when you say please."

"Oh gods," he groans with a roll of his eyes, embarrassed, but he can't turn away because she's sliding her hands up his chest, pressing her lips to his.

He sighs into her kiss, soaking in the warmth of her body as she insinuates herself into his arms. "You beg very nicely," she murmurs, a smirk curling her lips.

"If you ever tell anyone about that, I will knife you in your sleep," he murmurs back, taking two handfuls of her ass and pulling her against his swiftly reawakening erection, drowning in her kiss and her body and her teasing affection.

This is dangerous; he knows it, but somehow the sound of her laughter and the feel of her body are so good that he just doesn't care.

[laconicmoon]

wimseyverse femslash has arrived anew!

that poll about rarepairs made me revisit this fic...... i am to my knowledge the only person who ships marjorie phelps and harriet vane (in an "i can make them worse" way). also sylvia/eiluned community, we are few but we are CORRECT. just dumping this here in case some other historical weirdos enjoy this stuff

[starjones-on-ao3]

Shout-out to fanfic writers from twenty years ago...

One late night in December 1999, I stumbled by chance of a Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan slash story. I didn’t know fanfic was a thing, and suddenly I found myself in the most wonderful rabbit hole. I quickly switched to reading het featuring one or both of my favorite hunks.

This was at a time where you either read the stories on your home computer, or printed them. None of them can be found online now. They were from various Geocities websites, Yahoo Groups, Listservs, defunct archives such as Jedi Hunks, Corellia, and others...

I gradually stopped reading fanfiction a few months after I had started. But through the years and many moves, I kept my precious binder with my favorite stories, even if I was not going to open it for years at a stretch.

I wanted to aknowledge the work of some writers whose names I can track in my binder : Emmy, Ambur, Kayla, Eiluned, Jenn.

To you dear writers, thank you :)

[eiluned]

A Bird in the Hand [BG3; explicit Tav/Astarion/Halsin]

Read it at AO3

Summary: Tavriel has a rather interesting proposal for her lovers. (It's just smut, y'all.)

Pairing: Tav/Astarion/Halsin

Pertinent tags: PWP, DVP let's goooooo

Notes: Set in act 3, post-Cazador, after Tavriel, Astarion, and Halsin have started having threesomes. Fits into my bigger Tav playthrough series, but I'm allergic to writing things in chronological order. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (This uses the same title as a Clintasha fic that I wrote years ago, just in case you've read my old stuff and were like 'wait'. I can't resist a terrible smutty pun.)

Art by the absolutely amazing Dova/CapriFawn. The full version can be found on their twitter! (You have to be logged in to see it, because it is very spicy.)

Comments make my heart grow three sizes. 🥹

[eiluned]

Fell From Your Heart

by eiluned

Read at AO3

Summary: If he were forced to confess, maybe under pain of torture or something like that, Astarion would admit that he was a little jealous.

Tavriel smiled at him, sank into his embrace and looked at him through her dark lashes, wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him so sweetly.

But she also kissed the druid, and smiled at him, and looked at the man like he’d captured her heart.

All right, Astarion was more than a little jealous. He was very jealous.

[laconicmoon]

new chapter of my 1920s lesbian fanfiction is up--part two of the "pilot episode" before we get to proper shenanigans. featuring fluff and sylvia marriott backstory!!

[eiluned]

Lucky [Clintasha microfic]

by Eiluned

Rating: gen

For @auntie-lucifer‘s prompt

--

“What’s this?”

“This is a puppy.”

Natasha felt her face do that thing, the thing where her forehead froze and her nose wrinkled a little and her lips pursed. The thing her face did when Clint said stuff like, “This is a puppy,” when she clearly meant, “Why is there a puppy in our house?”

“I see that.”

Clint clearly scented danger, because he hefted the lanky little golden retriever up into his arms and deposited it right into Natasha’s. “I thought we could call him Lucky,” he said, wearing his most disarming grin.

“Clint…” she started, but the puppy licked her right in the face, making her sputter and laugh. “Clint, I thought we were going to talk about it before we got a dog.”

Shoving his hand back through his hair, he grinned sheepishly. “I know, I know,” he said. “But someone dumped this little guy on the street in Brooklyn. I asked around, but no one claimed him, so I brought him home and gave him a bath and took him to the vet yesterday. He’s healthy, other than being a little skinny and missing that eye. And he’s the sweetest boy ever.”

Natasha shifted the dog around so she could look him in the eye.

“Lucky, huh.”

[eiluned]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex, Teasing, Fingerfucking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill

Summary: Kissing on the battlements was one thing. His hand in her smalls while standing five feet away from Orlesian dignitaries who were probably wondering where the inquisitor had made off to was entirely another.

Notes: Written for the prompt: "Quizzy likes to seduce reserved/controlled Cullen into losing his cool and banging her in public-ish places." Huge thanks to Amanda and Trina for the beta reading and help!

[eiluned]

Fic: Worship [Cullen/Trevelyan]

Worship by Eiluned

Rating: Explicit Tags: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Teasing, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Come Shot, Vaginal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Pre-Trespasser DLC, Champion Pussy Eater Cullen Rutherford, Body Worship, One Shot, Female Ejaculation Summary: Isolde Trevelyan's been away from Skyhold for a month. What better way to celebrate her return than a little body worship from her commander? Notes: This is a trimmed down version of this previously posted fic. For @greyallison's writing contest. 1996 words. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

"I've been dreaming about this for weeks," he said, fingers skimming over her knees and in to trace deliberate lines up her thighs where they lay to either side of his knees. "May I?"

"Well, since you're so polite," Isolde replied.

Her breath caught when he wrapped his hands around her legs and pushed them up and apart, spreading her open. "My lady deserves nothing less," Cullen murmured, bending forward to kiss her lips.

He didn't have his weight on her, just his hands holding her legs down and his thighs pressed against her ass as he leaned over her, but even that bit of contact was enough to set her on fire. Maker, but she had missed him, and she couldn't help whimpering against his mouth as he kissed her.

With her legs pinned against her body, she couldn't move enough to rub against him, and he chuckled at the feel of her straining against him. "Eager?" he rumbled, nipping at her bottom lip.

"I've been dreaming about this for weeks," she echoed back to him, and his smile made her stomach flutter.

His tongue swiped across her lip, but before she could catch his mouth in another kiss, he dropped his mouth to the curve of her neck, trailing heated kisses against the sensitive skin there.

Her breath stuttered when he caught her nipple between his teeth, worrying at it gently before sucking just hard enough to make her back arch. It was torture, to be so overwhelmed by sensation but unable to actually do anything about it. His cock was hard and heavy against her thigh, but that wasn't anywhere near close enough to wear she wanted it.

She whined when he released her nipple, rubbing his stubbled cheeks in the valley between her breasts. "Patience, love," he said with a little smile.

"I don't want to be patient," she complained, feeling his breath of laughter brush over her skin. "I want you now."

"Patience," he repeated, and Maker, she loved it when his voice dropped like that. "I'm going to worship your body, do things to you that you've only ever dreamed about. And when I'm satisfied that you've come hard enough, then you can have me."

Isolde's head hit the pillow, a desperate sound escaping her. "You're torturing me," she moaned, squirming as he dragged his tongue down the middle of her belly, dipping it briefly into her navel before continuing southward.

"And you'll enjoy every second of it," he replied, sighing as she carded her fingers through his hair, mussing up the carefully controlled curls.

She gasped when he set his teeth lightly into the back of her thigh. He licked at the little pain, soothing it with his tongue and ignoring her efforts to tug his hair to get his mouth where she wanted it.

Before Cullen, she'd never met another man who enjoyed eating cunt so much. Her past male lovers had always done it, of course (or else she wouldn't have reciprocated), but none of them with as much enthusiasm as the few women she'd been with.

Cullen, on the other hand, was better at it than even the best woman she'd known. He was intuitive and eager, learning from her reactions and experimenting with new ways to make her come. He absolutely loved it, too, loved to get his mouth on her and take her apart piece by piece, moaning the whole time like he'd never tasted anything better than her. He could go at it for ages, tirelessly tonguefucking her until she nearly lost her mind.

But as much as he loved eating her cunt, he also loved to tease her, to draw it out until she begged. He licked up the back of one thigh and kissed his way down the other, dragged his tongue ever so slowly along the crease where each leg met her body, brushed his nose against the soft curls on her mound and breathed in the scent of her arousal.

"Cullen," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair.

His breath was hot against her, lips so close to where she wanted them, and yet he still held back. She was already soaking wet, her clit throbbing with need, and she twisted under his grip, desperate for some kind of touch.

"Stay still," he scolded with a dangerous smirk, the curl of his lips tugging at his scar. "Hold your legs for me, love."

With a moan, she released his curls and obediently wrapped her hands around the backs of her legs, holding herself open for him.

"Good girl," he murmured, shifting onto his stomach.

The pillows propped her up enough so that she could see the long, muscular line of his body framed perfectly between her thighs, and she bit her lip at the sight of his hips rolling against the mattress, so aroused that he couldn't help himself.

Now that his hands were free, he could put them to better use, and he immediately did, using his thumbs to gently spread her open, baring her to his gaze. "So wet already?" he teased, his voice a low rumble.

"Cullen, you're killing me," she moaned, tossing her head back against the pillows.

He chose that exact moment, right when she'd stopped paying such close attention to what he was doing, to lick a hot path from the mouth of her cunt all the way up to her clit. Isolde shrieked in surprise, her hand coming up to stifle the sound.

Cullen groaned in response, thrusting his tongue deep into her cunt for a second before moving up to bear down on her clit. She was so aroused that the little bud of nerves felt swollen to twice its usual size, and though she'd thought he would drag this out, it quickly became clear that he was determined to make her come as quickly as possible.

Keeping his tongue firm, he flicked her clit, twitching the bud back and forth. She'd meant to hold onto her legs, really, but the sensations were too much; her thighs slipped from her grip, feet falling to the mattress on either side of his shoulders, and her hips rose greedily from the bed to meet his mouth.

It had been weeks since she'd had a good orgasm. Camping out on the road wasn't exactly the most conducive environment for masturbation, and she'd only been able to sneak a few quick, shivering climaxes when she could get a moment alone in her tent. Obviously being deprived had primed her body for the best orgasm of her life.

Cullen pushed two fingers into her cunt, curling them upward to stroke at the spot only he could reach. Between the jolting sensation of his fingertips pressing into her sweet spot and the relentless pressure of his tongue on her clit, Isolde was suddenly swept up into a blindingly intense orgasm. She swore so loudly it echoed off the rafters, her hands fisting in the bedcovers, her whole body shaking under his assault.

He kept at it even as she shuddered and bucked up against his mouth, licking and thrusting, prolonging the pleasure until she was sure she would fly apart. She cried out at a particularly powerful wave of pleasure, writhing and shivering, her inner thighs suddenly very wet.

When she collapsed back onto the bed, he lifted his head to grin at her, his chin and neck slick from her orgasm. "I hope you have an extra blanket," he teased, dragging his palm over her mound.

She wasn't quite ready for another round, but Cullen was already licking her clean, delving his tongue into her cunt, his thumb coaxing her body back to the edge of orgasm. She shuddered as he worked his tongue inside the mouth of her cunt.

His moan in reply seemed to vibrate right to the core of her, sending a bolt of arousal straight to her clit. He stroked the tight bud under the pad of his thumb, trying to get his tongue as deep into her as he could.

Chanting his name, she canted her hips, pressing herself firmly against his mouth, and when he moaned again, all the pleasure coiling up at the base of her spine suddenly sprang loose.

She clenched down on his thrusting tongue, her back arching and her legs shaking as she cried out. He wrapped both hands around the tops of her thighs, holding her still so she could ride out the orgasm with his tongue still buried in her.

"Maker's breath," she whimpered, trying valiantly to unclench her hands from around fistfuls of blanket.

Humming his agreement, Cullen tugged his tongue free and slowly licked up either side of her cunt. "I love the way you taste," he rumbled, and despite being well on her way to bonelessness, Isolde felt heat stir deep in her body again.

"Oh Maker, Cullen, please," she whimpered, writhing as he sucked at her clit. "Please, Cullen, I need you, please, I need you inside me, please…"

His groan may have been the sexiest thing she had ever heard, and through the haze of pleasure she watched as he rutted against the blanket. "Cullen, please!" she begged, letting out a sob when he shook his head gently, her clit still between his lips.

He took her right to the edge, teasing her clit until her legs were shaking before backing off just enough to leave her swearing and drumming her heels against the mattress. And then he did it again and again, building up her pleasure nearly to its crescendo but stopping just before she could come.

Isolde cursed him and praised him and begged him for mercy, begged him to take her. He was so good, so amazingly good, like he could read her mind and know exactly how far to push her before she fell apart. He kept her on that edge, perfectly balanced on the precipice, until her body felt like it would burst into flames.

With a sudden, ragged gasp, Cullen surged up onto his knees, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other pulling at her hip, trying to lift her up enough so he could mount her. "Fuck!" he growled, a hard shudder wracking his body.

His first spurts of seed striped over her belly, and then he managed to line himself up properly. She was so aroused that he slid right in despite his size, and his cock jerked and twitched deep in her cunt as he spilled into her. He swore and moaned her name, his big body dropping down onto hers, as if he couldn't stand not touching as much of her as possible.

He spent himself into her shuddering body, his hips thrusting jerkily at the force of his own climax, and Maker, she loved how it felt when he lost control inside of her.

She'd already been on the edge of coming. All she needed was a little nudge to go right off that cliff, and the feel of his thick cock inside of her was exactly the right kind of nudge. She bucked against him, her hands clutching at his back, her face buried in the curve of his neck as she sobbed his name.

Breathing hard, he sank his hands into her hair and kissed her as they slowly came back down. She thought she missed this the most during those long nights on the road: his weight atop her, his arms around her, his lips pressed against hers.

"I'm glad you're back," he said softly.

She opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her, his face blissfully relaxed, and she loved seeing him like that. "I can tell," she teased. "You're so glad I'm back that I'll need another bath."

"And a change of bedclothes."

"That's your fault, too."

"I'll gladly take the blame," he murmured, taking her mouth in another kiss.

[eiluned]

15, Cullen x Inquisitor

prompt: trembling hands, Cullen/Inquisitor

Sometimes she sees a fine tremor in his hands, when he points to the map or reaches for his drink. She wouldn’t have even noticed if she didn’t watch him so closely, but she sees it and sees how he quickly reaches for his sword hilt, tucks his hand under the table, does something so no one will see that little sign of weakness.

His hands do not tremble when he touches her, not at first, anyway. They are strong and confident, all signs of lyrium pain vanished in the pleasure they find in each other. He holds her close with his steady hands, sinking them into her hair, trailing fiery touches over her skin. They tremble only when he comes undone in her body, but it’s a different kind of tremor, a good sort of weakness, one that he only shares with her.

(prompt me)

[eiluned]

Ok, since I’m having trouble writing, I thought I’d share a little bit of one thing I’ve been working on to see if feedback will help spark the desire to, you know, finish this thing.

It’s Cullen/Trevelyan, established relationship, moving in the direction of explicit (but not there yet; I apologize in advance, heh). It may take place in this much bigger fic I’ve been working on, but I haven’t decided yet.

Feedback is very very appreciated. <3

A book sat beside the stub of a candle there, and to her delight, she found it was a trashy romance of the Swords and Shields variety. That Cullen had it beside his bed was especially delightful; she made a mental note to tease him about it later, but for now, she settled back onto the pillows and let it fall open.

The meeting below droned on at least for half an hour, but the sound of it was dulled well enough by her distraction. Isolde skimmed the first few chapters, grinning when she found small pieces of paper marking particularly erotic passages.

The novel was about a noble Marcher lady and the barbarian chieftain who captured her heart (amongst other parts of her body, Isolde thought with a snicker), but the plot often paused so the writer could go into loving and extremely explicit detail about their sexual exploits.

She was so engrossed in a particularly steamy scene in which the chieftain had lashed together the lady's hands with his sword belt and was driving her mad with his mouth between her thighs–the beginning of this scene was marked with a slightly bigger scrap of paper than the others–that she didn't hear Cullen climbing the ladder.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Isolde jumped hard enough to send the book flying across the bed, and she swore at his laugh. He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He must have removed his armor downstairs, because he was just in his trousers and a soft linen shirt belted at the waist. "I suppose that's payback for startling you earlier," she said, sitting up and retrieving the book. "Oh no, I've lost your place. However will you find your favorite scene?"

She loved that he blushed at having his romance novel habit caught out. "I'm sure I'll find it again," he said, shaking his head at her.

"I'm sure the book will fall right open to the page," she retorted, setting it back on the table. "It seems very well-read."

"Whatever blackmail it requires to keep this quiet, I will pay it," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "Varric complains about this author when he gets a few pints in him. If he finds out, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Your secret's safe with me," she said. "Though steamy romances, Commander, I never would have imagined. How many will I find on your shelves downstairs?"

"None," he said emphatically, flopping down on his back across the foot of the bed. "They're hidden under this bed, if you must know. I'm not going to risk someone looking for a volume on military tactics and happening upon The Rogue of Antiva."

"Oh, that's a good one!" Isolde cackled, crawling down so she could curl up against his side, tucking herself under his arm. "I like the part where the rogue sneaks into the prince's quarters and he catches her trying to steal the crown jewels. Nice metaphors."

Laughing, he rolled her underneath him, and she was suddenly and forcibly reminded of the barbarian chieftain pinning his lady underneath his large, muscular body. She bit her lip as he leaned in for a kiss, and he gave her a sly look. "You're thinking of that book, aren't you?" he teased, shifting a little more so he could settle between her thighs.

"A handsome, blond barbarian and a Marcher noblewoman?" she said. "Why no, there's nothing in this situation that would remind me of that."

"Excuse me, are you saying I'm a barbarian?" he said, mock affronted.

"You are Fereldan and all–" she said, laughing and trying to squirm away when he dropped his not insubstantial weight onto her and started tickling her ribs.

"I can see–ah, stop it! I can see why it's your favorite book," she gasped, kicking her heels into the backs of his thighs.

He sank both hands into her hair, now coming loose from its pinned-up braids, and kissed her hard, nipping at her bottom lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth. It made her moan, her hands clutching at his back, fingers fisting around the soft material of his shirt. Maker, but she loved how he kissed her, like he was dying of thirst and the only thing that could quench it was her lips.

[eiluned]

Ohhh Clint, Nat, and Darcy. 619: i have nothing going on in my life. unless a toxic love triangle with netflix and jack daniels counts.

“Darcy! I’m glad I found you,” Jane called, skidding to a stop beside Darcy as she walked across the building’s foyer. “I got an offer to work with Dr. Ettner at the VLBA, and she wants me to start next week. Can you come with me?”

It took all of Darcy’s willpower to not groan and facepalm. She loved working with Jane, she really did, but they had been jetting around the world for the last three years, and god, she just wanted to stay in one place for more than three months.

“Sure,” she said dully. “Why not? I have nothing going on in my life. Unless a toxic love triangle with Netflix and Jack Daniels counts.”

Jane’s brow furrowed as she dropped out of Science Brain Space and came back to earth. “Toxic love triangle?” she repeated with a smirk. “I thought you were having a very nice love triangle with Barton and Romanoff. Do they know you’re cheating on them with Netflix and Jack? And by the way, the VLBA is in Hawaii.”

“Oh my god, Jane, you can’t just go talking about my sex life in front of the doorman! His virgin ears, my god. And I can have more than one love triang–did you say Hawaii? Give me ten minutes. I’ll be packed and ready to go.”

[eiluned]

Darcy/Natasha - (206) i keep forgetting that not all of my female friends are bisexual.

“She screamed?”

“I know, right? I just tried to kiss her. I mean, she was dancing, I was dancing, we were dancing together, she was giving me all the signals…”

Natasha stifled a laugh, balancing her phone on her shoulder as she put her freshly cleaned gun back together. “So she screamed.”

“Yeah. I keep forgetting that not all of my female friends are bisexual. This chick was all over girls in college, I mean–”

“Maybe you should reserve the girlkissing for when you visit me,” Natasha teased.

Darcy laughed. “You are my favorite bisexual girl, Nat.”

“I’d better be,” Natasha replied, dropping her voice into a husky purr.

Darcy started breathing a little harder.

[eiluned]

Clint/Natasha - (785): Let's go get coffee and handcuffs.

“Let’s go get coffee and handcuffs,” Clint murmured against Natasha’s ear.

She smirked in reply, slipping off of her perch on the edge of the counter to follow Clint out of the kitchen.

“Handcuffs? What are they for?” Steve asked from the other side of the island, and Clint froze so suddenly that Natasha walked right into his back.

“Really?” she asked, throwing a smirk over her shoulder at Steve.

“We’re, ah… detaining a perp,” Clint said, apparently right at the moment when Steve put two and two together and realized they were planning on acting out some of those things he’d seen in videos on the internet.

Natasha didn’t know which one of them turned redder.

[eiluned]

Fic from last night thingy: Clintasha "(714): I literally can not watch Thor without thinking of your dick" I thought this was gold

I literally can not watch Thor without thinking of your dick

Clint nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee when the text message popped up on his phone. After dabbing hopelessly at the new stain on his t-shirt, he tapped back a reply.

care to elaborate wtf that means romanoff?

A few seconds later: Big hammer.

Clint smirked and took another swig of coffee.

[eiluned]

...I may have just written three hundred words of fix it fic. I absolutely cannot guarantee I will be able to finish this, but I’m going to share anyway because holy shit, I just wrote something for the first time in at least a month.

Angsty Clint and Natasha after the cut. Total first draft, notes to self included, heh. AoU spoilers, sorta. Basically, my way of fixing That Scene That Bothered Me A Lot.

"You're not a monster," Clint said softly, and even though she was resolutely looking the other way, she knew he was watching her carefully. "Not being able to have kids… that doesn't make you any less human."

"I know," she replied, her breath leaving her lungs on a sigh. "On a logical level, I know that. It's just… having the choice taken away from me? That hurts. That makes me want it more than I probably would otherwise. I can't decide for myself because the decision has already been made. That's what makes me so angry."

"Taking that away from you, that makes them the monsters," Clint said.

She'd had that same thought many times over the years, but underneath all of the layers of trauma and abuse, she had always caught herself wondering if it was really true or if she was just being disobedient [revise; she's pushing against the training], laying the blame on her masters instead of herself. Sometimes she didn't know where the blame should fall; she had done so many horrible things, but she had been so thoroughly warped her entire life that she wasn't sure it was of her own volition. How can you make a choice when someone's already made the choices for you and implanted them in your psyche? Can you make a choice when someone has a gun to your head, telling you what you should do?

They, her masters in the Red Room, were the monsters. They took little girls and turned them into murderers.

She could tell herself that a million times, and there would still be a seed of doubt planted at the back of her mind.

"I know," she said again.