PetronellaRose

Blonde little girl lying on the floor reading.



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  1. Public Bookmark 37

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    Clint knew what to do with his body. He might not be able to trust anything else- not his dumb brain or his questionable feelings or, hell anyone or anything in his life- but he could trust his body. And, okay, he could trust Natasha.

     

    So he’d told her. About his… thing. Not about his dick, since she was fairly well versed in that as both a user of and occasional bystander to Clint’s dick.

     

    But about the thing. The thing he’d never considered, never realized, never even…

     

    Clint would go so far as to say that it was actually Natasha’s fault that this thing was even a thing at all.

    Language:
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    29 Nov 2021

  2. Public Bookmark 20

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    30-something is way too old for a sexual awakening, right?

    ---

    Gary's Sex Tips #1002
    If she calls out her ex boyfriend's name in bed go to his house and kiss him. See what the dick about! See what all the fuss is about!

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    02 Aug 2021

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    “I met the love of my life because he cat-called me from a building site.”

    All Clint’s latent emotion is suddenly swept away by exasperation. “Oh my god, Natasha. For the last time; I did not.”

    “You said ‘Mind your head, hot stuff’,” Natasha counters.

    “Because I was carrying scaffolding and you were on your phone.”

    Natasha’s hand creeps higher up his thigh. “Hot stuff’, though.”

    Clint cups her boob; gives it a little grope. “Was I wrong, though?”

    “Of course not,” Natasha replies, looking equal parts mischievous and haughty, “but that’s not the point.”

  3. Public Bookmark 24

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    Clint's after-Grindr mornings don't usually go like this, but he's not complaining.

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    31 Mar 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Clint frowns harder, blinking awake to see the face of… James. His name is James. Grindr James. Absurdly handsome James with the tattoos and the beautiful ass. That James.

  4. Public Bookmark 16

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    “This is the last time,” Clint said as soon as he wrestled free of his thermal shirt.

    “Yeah,” Bucky agreed from below, on his knees, hands gripping Clint’s bare ass cheeks and mouth pressed to that spot on Clint’s hip that made his shiver and moan and try to decide if he wanted more or less sensation there.

    “Last time. Absolutely.” Bucky ran his teeth over the hickey he’d left there yesterday, still so fresh and tender that Clint made a sound he hoped the apartment across the hall wrote off as like… the television or something.

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    28 Dec 2020

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Nope. I just like to make people feel good.” He stressed the last word, turned his face so it was breathed against Clint’s neck. “I like it when they’re good for me.”

    That-

    It-

    He couldn’t just-

    “You wanna be good for me, Clint?” Bucky asked, breath so fucking hot he was probably scorching the skin on Clint’s neck. “You wanna be my good boy?”

    Clint’s hand slipped.

    The world was suddenly crashing into motion again, and the sink was-

    Filled with bubbles and the scent of citrus and pine, and the bubbles were turning pink? What the fuck?

    “Jesus,” Bucky snarled. He grabbed Clint’s hands, pulled them out of the water and-

    Oh.

    Shit.

    That was a big ass cut across his left index finger.

    That-

    That was a cut that ran the entire length of his index finger.

    It started as a thin line, just a red trail, but as Bucky held Clint’s hand above the water, away from the heat and the wet of it, blood welled up from the cut and-

    Wow.

    That was-

    That was a lot of blood.

  5. Public Bookmark 23

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    Sometimes, you lean against a brick wall outside a coffee shop to take a selfie with your coffee, and nothing happens. It’s highly unlikely, after all, for a wall to be anything other than what it appears to be.

    However. Were you to be in, say, Bedford-Stuyvesant, you might find a wall less committed to that state of being. Having been graffitied with the outlines of a door some weeks prior, this particular stretch of wall is having an identity crisis. Which wouldn’t matter, except that this is the patch of wall Clint Barton leans against for a coffee break.

    More accurately, this is the patch of wall Clint Barton falls through.

    Language:
    English
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    25 Dec 2020

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Perhaps this is just a slightly different New York where the only difference is that Reagan lost his election or the US bought Nova Scotia instead of Alaska. Maybe this is a world where every important life event takes place in a coffee shop. Maybe—

    “How can I help you today?” Clint looks up and finds the register manned by a squid-faced monstrosity, countless tentacles making tea and heating pastries and drawing elegant latte-foam squids. “Sir?” says the cthulhu, directly into his mind. “We have a buy one, get one pastry special today. Are you interested?”