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“Hm,” Clint had to smile at you, gravel sounds coating his hum, “Well, I would say you’re about to interrogate a cartoon character from the 60s.” “Mmm… guess,” you goaded him, still twirling the big white feather between your fingers. He was in his boxer briefs and that’s all. You crawled into the bed where Clint lay, bound by his wrists to the bedpost. But him agreeing to do this in the first place with you was already a dream come true. He looked at the feather in her hand, wondering why she had that mischievous look in her eye. (you will see that I am handling the “next five” part very loosely lol) Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five…