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hederasgarden · 1 year

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I posted 1,690 times in 2022

That's 1,690 more posts than 2021!

765 posts created (45%)

925 posts reblogged (55%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hederasgarden

@wildbornsiren

@a-reader-and-a-writer

@yespolkadotkitty

@iguana-braces

I tagged 1,317 of my posts in 2022

Only 22% of my posts had no tags

#is - 571 posts

#📦 - 372 posts

#my fic recs - 118 posts

#💌 - 106 posts

#⁉ - 93 posts

#rhett abbott - 71 posts

#outer range - 65 posts

#rhett abbott x you - 64 posts

#hangman x reader - 54 posts

#the gray man - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#miles teller is really testing the limits of what i find attractive with the mustache in top gun and a mullet in this movie

My Top Posts in 2022:

Bloodlust

Summary: After battle, Aemond visits your tent.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Rough sex, fingering, biting, knife play and PIV sex. Basically smut with feels.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216, @shootingthroughthemoon, @handoverthekawaii and @shadycloudphilosopher for their help with this!

Likes are lovely but comments and reblogs make my day!

Masterlist

The ground shakes and the distant, angry roar of a dragon deafens the camp. Even from within your tent, you recognize Vhagar’s cry.

Your husband has returned.

There is no telling his mood, it varies wildly these days as the fighting intensifies. Some days he has little time for you, pouring over maps and plans with the men he commands until the early morning hours only to leave again soon after. Other days he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the comfort of your body, working hard to make your belly swell with a child again. What he wants from you today remains to be seen but it’s best to be prepared.

You stand, drawing the attention of the small gathering of women and servants in your tent.

“Thank you all for joining me this afternoon. I think it’s time for me to retire for the day,” you announce.

They bid you goodbye quickly and you watch them slowly file outside. It’s best for everyone if they’re not present when Aemond arrives. Your husband cared little for propriety when his blood lust was high from battle. His reputation and missing eye frightened many of the ladies; you couldn’t imagine their scandalized expressions if they saw him how you did in those unrestrained moments. He had scared you once too but that was when you were young and naive. Your head was filled with rumors about his awful deeds and garish appearance.

Now you know better. There was no doubt he could be cruel and violent. You’d seen first hand how easily he crushed his enemies and those that would harm the ones he loved, though he was never unkind to you. Even in the beginning when you were nothing to one another he protected you fiercely simply because you were his. He was gentle then too, his eye always seeking yours to determine your reaction to each touch and kiss he placed on your body and for that alone you would have cherished him but over the years you'd grown to love him too.

“Princess….” You turn, surprised to find one of the newer servants watching you with an unexpectedly concerned expression. “Would you like me to remain?”

“I can handle the Prince,” you assure her with a smile. “Go. Please…”

“As you wish,” she says, dipping her head and disappearing through the flaps of the tent.

When your betrothal to Prince Aemond was announced, this was hardly how you imagined passing your days. You expected something more sedate and safe within the Red Keep but your husband liked you close. It kept him calm and focused, reminding him of what he fought for. You learned to love the freedom it gave you outside his mother’s watchful eye and the King’s lecherous one.

Your only warning before Aemond stalks through the tent flaps is a hushed greeting of, Your Highness, from the guards stationed at the entrance of your tent. He ignores them, his eye focused solely on you as he sheds pieces of his outer armor with each step. As he continues his steady approach, his sword and outer doublet fall to the floor. The last thing to be removed is his eye patch and your gaze is automatically drawn to the brilliant sapphire jewel nestled there. It frightened many but you found him handsome like this.

“My Prince,” you greet. “How was the battle? Did you-” whatever words you would say to him are cut off by his mouth on yours.

He kisses you roughly, grabbing your hip and neck possessively. Together you stumble towards the bed in the corner of the room, his hands groping your body. When your legs tangle in your skirts Aemond grasps the back of your thighs, practically throwing you on the bed in a fit of impatience.You hardly have time to recover before he’s on top of you, slender fingers ripping at the collar of your dress to bare your shoulders to him. His teeth find your neck and you groan, hips rising to press against his. He sucks at the impression he’s left in your skin as he fumbles with your dress, seeking the warmest part of your body.

It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient with your clothing and pull back. A grunt is your only warning before a dagger appears. Another woman might cower in fear at the sight but you only felt a peculiar rush of desire you had long since stopped trying to understand. Aemond was skilled with all manner of weapons and you learned about his penchant for small blades after the wedding. It was a favored bedmate for the both of you by now. You loved to watch him wield it. There was something beautiful about the way he handled it, the dagger moving between his fingers like water over stone.

In a flash your dress is split down the middle. Aemond wrenches it open with two hands, baring your upper body to his hungry gaze. The cold air washes over your heated skin and you shiver. He smirks and drags the flat of the blade over one breast and then the other until your nipples harden into peaks. He follows the cool blade with his warm tongue and you moan, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I should keep you naked all the time,” he whispers.“I could command it and you would listen, my obedient little wife.”

He doesn’t wait for your response before shifting down your body, flipping the knife easily in his hand to make quick work of the lower half of your dress. When he is done it hangs in tatters off your body along with your small clothes. He looms over you, something in his gaze both thrilling and terrifying. In moments like this, it’s not hard to believe the tales about the madness that lives within each Targaryen. Aemond looks like he could devour you whole.

“I’ve been dreaming of this warmth,” he admits, long fingers stroking the thick patch of curls at the apex of your thighs. He continues speaking, his voice smooth and hypnotic. “Of how tight and hot you’d feel around me.”

You’re wet enough that when he seeks out your bundle of nerves his fingers slip easily over the sensitive flesh, teasing your entrance only to pull away a second later. You stare up at him, breath ragged as you wait to see what he will do. He smirks, withdrawing his hand and laying his body over yours. The weight of him presses you into the bed, spiking the molten heat that builds in your stomach

“I’d kill for you, for this,” he whispers, lips sliding over yours to cut off the gasp you make when he forces a hand between your bodies and curls two fingers possessively inside you.

You tear your lips away from his. “Aemond, please.”

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1,356 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

Safe With Me

Summary: Six is a hard man to read up until the moment he isn’t.

Paring: Sierra Six (Court Gentry) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. AU, violence, blood, angst, whumpage, death and some sexual content.

A/N: If this gets a good response I will write a sequel that takes place during the movie. Please note the reader has been Claire’s caretaker since her first surgery and is in her early 30s. The story is based on this ask. Thank you N and a @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta'ing and @skvatnavle for the title.

When Six comes into your lives, you’re not sure what to make of him. He’s clearly CIA-adjacent like Fitz – or some other alphabet agency– though he has none of the easy warmth of Claire's uncle. Just his quick sense of humor, but even that comes out sparingly, often startling a laugh from you. Claire takes to him quickly, poking and prodding at his cool exterior until you begin to see little cracks in it. Small glimpses of the man beneath the protector.

Once you notice the little tells, it becomes easier to catch them. Like the soft way he looks at Claire when she’s singing along to a record or the way his lips twitch up into a brief smile every time you remember his favorite pastry from the bakery. It’s apparent in the way his hand always rests at the small of your back when you’re out in public together, guiding you along as Claire tugs excitedly at your arm. You see it in the way he keeps himself as a buffer between the two of you and other people.

It’s how you know his nightly check-in at bedtime isn't just about following security protocol. Seeing you both safely tucked into bed for the night seems to ease some of the tension he carries. Most times the two of you don’t speak, he just pokes his head in and nods, giving you that awkward little grimace he probably thinks is a smile. Claire is another story, you can normally hear her excited little voice asking Six a hundred different questions that he patiently answers.

Tonight you’re in bed early, a warm cup of tea and a book in your hand. You thumb through the pages while you wait for him to come say good night, unable to rest until this part of your routine is complete. The clock on your bedside ticks steadily forward until it’s 9:05. Six is always prompt and when he doesn't show you grow concerned, venturing out to find him. You don’t make it far before a gloved hand covers your mouth and an arm snakes around your stomach. You’re pulled back against a solid wall of muscle.

“Tell us where the girl is,” comes the gravelly demand.

In your panicked state you thrash around, jerking your head back. Pain explodes along your skull and the man groans, releasing you. When you look back, you see blood pouring from his broken nose. You scramble away from him and scream for Six but the man catches you quickly. He forces you on your back and your head snaps to the side with the force of the first blow. You lay there stunned, with the taste of pennies in your mouth. You've never been hit before or purposely hurt like this and the ugly surprise of it is almost worse than the pain.

Tears well up and you breathe in wetly, blood escaping from your split lip down your chin. The man stares at you and even though the mask hides most of his face the anger in his gaze is unmistakable. Before you can recover he hauls you to your feet and throws you roughly against the wall, demanding you take him to Claire.

"No," you croak. He strikes you a second time and you flinch. God you hope Claire made it to the panic room. The thought of this man touching her makes your stomach roll. You close your eyes when he asks you again, waiting for another blow to come but nothing happens. When you hear the audible click of a gun’s safety your eyes shoot open. The man in front of you freezes.

He’s quick to recover, turning around and bringing you in front of him as a shield. You blink rapidly to clear your tears, relief surging through your body at the sight of Six. He looks a little worse for wear, a wound on his arm bleeding sluggishly and a gash on his side. To your surprise, he doesn’t address the man but looks right at you.

“You alright?” He asks.

You're not, but you nod anyway.

“Where’s the girl? Take me to her or I’ll kill this one,” the man demands, pressing a knife to your throat.

You whimper and Six’s lips thin, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Still, he doesn’t look at the man, speaking to you again. “Did he do that to you?” Six asks, motioning to your face.

“Yes.”

“Take me to the girl,” the man growls.

You jerk in his arms when you feel the blade split the skin of your throat. Six takes a step forward but stills, watching you for a long moment before he shifts his attention to the man behind you.

“I want you to know. I was going to leave one of you alive. The CIA loves to interrogate you assholes… but you touched her. That was a mistake,” he says, his voice cold and even. When he speaks again he’s still watching the man though you know he’s addressing you. “Close your eyes.”

You squeeze them shut, holding your breath. There’s no hiding what Six means to do and even though you know it’s coming you still flinch at the sound of the gun and the hollow thump of the man’s body hitting the floor behind you. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel Six’s touch on the side of your neck.

At his coaxing, your eyes flutter open, and you stare at his bloodied face. You can’t stop your hands from shaking and when your lips part no sound comes out. Some part of you knows you’re in shock, but you can’t make your body cooperate. It’s a struggle to breathe.

“It’s alright, take a breath,” Six instructs, cradling the uninjured side of your face in his hand. You inhale through your nose as he continues to watch you, nodding encouragingly until you're breathing normally.

"Six," you whisper, grasping his shirt.

“How are you doing, hen?” He questions, the use of his terrible nickname for you startling a laugh from you. Mother hen. For the way you tended to follow Claire around the house, fussing over her even when she tried to wave you off. “Should we go check on our little chick?” He asks.

“Where is she? Did they-” you start.

Six is quick to reassure you. “She went straight to the safe room just like I taught her. She’s okay,” he promises.

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1,490 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

Flirting For Dummies - Part 1

Summary: Turns out the crush you have on one of the pilots that frequents the Hard Deck isn’t quite so unrequited. You’re just bad at recognizing when someone’s flirting with you. Good thing Jake’s happy to help you understand how interested he really is.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Rating: General. The second part will include explicit sexual content and be 18+ only. This part features Hangman being a cocky little shit, a shy reader (inspired by @thewhiskersonkittens post asking for Jake with a shy reader), a misunderstanding and some kissing.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: This is my first of hopefully many Top Gun fics. Please let me know if you enjoy this. Reblogs and comments feed the muse.

The pencil is clutched firmly between your teeth as you highlight another important passage in your book. It’s still early enough that the background sound from the bar is at a steady hum instead of the loud, chaotic energy you know it’ll morph into soon. The golden hours between lunch and the evening rush are the best time to study at the Hard Deck, it’s less stuffy than the library or the studio apartment you rent, plus you get free fries here. That’s hard to beat.

“Almost done?” One of the other bartenders, Becky, asks as she passes by you on her way to the kitchen.

“Almost,” you respond. Technically there are two more chapters you need to read but with only 15 minutes until your shift starts there’s no chance you can make that happen. You don’t really care anyway, you’re tired of studying. What you need is a break, something more than sitting alone on your couch watching true crime documentaries with a pint of ice cream.

With a defeated sigh you close your book and lean back to stretch, letting out a startled little gasp when you realize the seat beside you is no longer empty, but taken up by the handsome pilot who you’ve spent entirely too much time thinking about. He’s become a regular at the bar over the last few months, coming in like clockwork on Thursdays and Fridays. Sometimes he’s alone, just ordering dinner and a drink though mostly he comes in with a group of other people wearing the same service khakis to play pool.

You don't know his actual name, just his call sign - Hangman. He's friendly, tipping generously and has a habit of winking at you when you dropped off his drinks. That made you incredibly nervous even if you did like it. You know it doesn’t mean anything… He’s charming to all the bartenders, even succeeding in making the unflappable Becky blush once.

Penny warned you the pilots were the worst of the bunch but the others didn’t make you nearly as nervous as Hangman did. You liked watching him from afar, aware of how his type operated. They didn’t go for girls like you. You weren’t pretty like Becky or funny like Janet, the other bartender you often worked with.

Having his full attention focused on you throws you for a loop. “What?” You stammer, completely missing whatever he just said.

“I asked what you are reading about?” Hangman repeats, leaning into your space to see the title of your textbook.

He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, a potent mix of sandalwood and a sweet citrusy undercurrent. When your mouth opens to respond all that escapes is a uhhhh sound. He smirks, pressing into your space and laying his arm along the back of the bar stool. You meet his beautiful green eyes for just a second before you clear your throat and look away.

“Coastal Ecology,” you finally manage to force out.

“You’ll have to speak up sweetheart,” Hangman says, tapping on the wooden bar. “It’s loud in here.”

It’s actually not but he still leans in and warmth sweeps up your chest into your throat. You hate the way the stupid pet name makes your stomach swoop. Normally you despise all the honey, baby, or darlins you get from the men at the bar, but there is something in the way he says it that’s different. You want him to call you that and mean it, even though you know he never would.

“I’m studying coastal ecology,” you repeat, turning to look at him fully, buoyed by a brief swell of confidence.

“Smart girl, huh?” He asks, grinning. You sit up straighter at his praise. “Why are you doing it at a bar? Hoping for some attention?”

His words curdle that pleasantly warm feeling in your chest.

“I work here,” you defend, sliding off the bar stool to put distance between the two of you. “I’m in grad school and the owner lets me study before my shift.”

The urge to continue and over-explain is hard to resist. You owe him nothing so cut yourself off and focus on putting your things away, but when you reach for your book he rests his hand on it to stop you from taking it. You stare at the large ring he wears on one finger, not wanting to meet his gaze. After a moment he sighs and draws his hand back. You spot an annoyed, almost confused look on his face, which quickly dissipates replaced by a bland smile.

“Ok then. Guess we’ll take a round of beers. Over at the pool tables,” he says, stepping back.

It’s not your shift for another 10 minutes so you pass on the order to Becky and go hide in the back office until you need to clock in. Despite your best efforts you somehow find yourself looking over to the pool table and meeting the blonde man’s eyes. He doesn’t smirk like you expect. There’s a little furrow between his brows instead.

"He's hot," Becky says, coming to lean against the bar next to you while you slice up a lime. “Probably a jackass but he’d show you a good time.”

"What?" You ask, embarrassed to be caught looking.

"Mr. Tall Blonde and Built," she indicates, pointing to Hangman. "All pilots are cocky, especially that bunch.”

"Bob is sweet," you defend, thinking of the timid but endearing pilot who always stammers his way through talking to Janet and you.

"Bob is an outlier and if he wasn't so into Janet I'd love to take him home and sit on that pretty face. He looks like he’d be so eager. Like one of those golden retriever types.” She sighs wistfully.

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1,653 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

Night Drive

Summary: Your reunion with Rooster gets interrupted by Hangman.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Word Count: 867

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public oral sex (m receiving), discussions of threesome, cum swapping and dirty talk.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216 @therebeccaw and @wildbornsiren for looking this over. I have been away for a while and had anxious moment about my writing skills. Thanks guys!

Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed! Your support keeps me writing.

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

It’s dark on the beach, the stars above bright and beautiful with the ocean waves crashing against the shore, but you don’t see or hear any of that. Your face is pressed firmly against Rooster’s hard, tanned stomach and his soft grunts fill your ears.

“Fuck,” he sighs, hands on the back of your head keeping you in place.

You moan in response, trying to breathe around his thick length as you suck on his cock. Giving him a blow job in the front seat of his bronco isn’t the brightest idea, but you’re parked in a quiet and secluded spot. Here Rooster can be as loud as he wants and there’s no danger of someone overhearing the wet, sloppy sounds you’re making.

God, you’ve missed him. He’s been gone on a mission for weeks and the familiar taste of his skin and cum are enough to have you wet and achy.

“Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?” A voice asks, startling you both.

It’s Hangman, his southern drawl unmistakable. If you weren’t so preoccupied with swallowing all of Rooster, you might have told him to fuck off. You ignore him, bobbing your head.

“Like you’d deny her,” Rooster retorts, panting, squeezing and rubbing the back of your neck.

You can see Hangman’s feet shuffle closer and he whistles, bending down until his face is level with yours. He drags his fingertips along the curve of your jaw.

“Can’t blame you, Rooster. She looks real pretty like this with those tears and that eager little tongue.”

You can tell your boyfriend is getting ready for a quippy retort so you hollow your cheeks and swirl your tongue. He swears, groaning deeply. Hangman’s eyes are still on you and it emboldens you. The hand on your head twitches and you continue to work Rooster over, more enthusiastically than before. Just when you feel his heavy balls draw up against your lips you pull off him.

Sitting up with a smile, you ignore the wrecked sound Rooster makes in response. His thigh trembles below the hand you rest there, letting you know just how needy he is. “Sweetheart,” he whines, trying to guide you back to his cock.

“This isn’t a free show. It’s going to cost you,” you tell Hangman, ignoring your boyfriend.

“Oh darlin, you know I’m good for it,” he boasts, using his thumb to wipe the spit on your mouth. He maintains eye contact as he slowly licks his finger clean. The skin around his eyes crinkle and he gives you a smug look.

“What did you have in mind?” You ask him, dropping your hand to Rooster’s lap to lazily stroke him. His desperate little grunt has you slowing your motion, teasing him further. Hangman’s gaze follows the movement, seemingly entranced.

“Paris is nice this time of year,” he says finally, grinning when Rooster bucks into your hand.

“Here?” you ask, doubtfully.

“No, at home,” Hangman tells you. “Unlike Rooster, I don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, but shake his offered hand. Like you were going to say no to a night between your favorite men.

“Great. We have a deal. Now shut the fuck up,” Rooster dismisses, grasping the back of your neck to draw you back down to his aching cock. “Can’t you see the lady’s busy?”

You start again by teasing the head of his cock, tonguing at his slit while you twist his length in your hand. He’s achingly close and normally you’d let him come down your throat but tonight you have something else in mind. You keep just the tip between your lips, sucking and teasing him until he lifts his hips and fills your mouth with his hot, salty spend. You swallow some, savoring the taste and moaning deeply. Then you rise up on your knees and beckon Hangman closer.

He seems aware of your plan, licking his lips before kissing you deeply. You open your mouth to share Rooster’s taste with him, loving how your tongues tangle together, and Hangman swallows without hesitation. He rubs your arms and continues to kiss you until air becomes necessary and you pull away.

“Well shit, honey,” he begins, reaching down to adjust himself. “That was fucking something. I think you sucked Rooster’s brains out.”

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1,744 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A Lesson in Patience

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to try something new.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Ratings: Explicit, 18+ only. Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, teasing/edging, and cockwarming.

A/N: This is smutty with a little fluff sprinkled in. Written in response to this ask. Reblogs and comments fuel the muse.

The Navy’s intense demands on Rooster meant your time with him could be limited. Often sex was quick and dirty, each of you desperate for the other. Half the time you didn't even make it to the bed. He'd ruck up your skirt and take you over the couch. Other times you fucked on the floor, but that usually came with a wisecrack about his bad knee after.

Tonight is different. You’re enjoying an uninterrupted weekend together. Saturday morning you stroll through the farmers market and pick out food to make dinner at home. In the middle of cooking Rooster pulls you into his arms when an old Elvis song crackles across the speaker. He sways your bodies back and forth as he sings along barefoot with you in the kitchen. You get so distracted, laughing and belting out the lyrics that dinner nearly burns. Everything feels hazy and soft, a rare moment of true domesticity. You love every second of it.

Now you're curled up on the couch together to watch a movie. After the opening credits Rooster's hand begins to creep up your thigh. You glance over at him, expecting to find him watching you, but instead he's staring straight ahead, seemingly engrossed in the movie. Slowly his fingers inch higher and higher until they're urging you to spread your legs wide enough for him to caress your clothed core. His touch is teasing and light, escalating only to recede a moment later. He continues his lazy campaign and it grows increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the movie. He's still pretending to watch it, exploring you unhurriedly though you see the way his lips are parted to take shallow breaths.

When he finally pushes aside your underwear to touch your bare skin, you drop your head back with a soft exhale. Your eyes close and you tune out the movie, concentrating on how his fingers gather the wetness there and spread it around. One teases your entrance as another rubs that little bundle of nerves.

By the halfway mark of the movie, he’s moved to the floor, curling two fingers inside you and sucking your clit. Rooster loves to make you come like this, eating you out in such a loud, messy way that would embarrass you if you weren’t so into it. When he finally helps push you over the edge you fall into an orgasm so intense you’re almost crushing his head between your thighs. He works you through it, each pass of his tongue across your bud sending a sharp aftershock through your nerves. Finally, it becomes too much and you push at his head, begging him to stop.

Rooster grins up at you, smoothing his mustache back into place with his thumb and forefinger. "Love that you beg me before and after," he says. "Does things for my ego.”

“You’re a pilot. I don’t think your ego can stand to get any bigger,” you tease.

“Something’s got a little bigger,” he whispers, rolling back on his heels and standing in one smooth motion.

You bite your lip and stare at the obvious tent in his gray sweatpants.

“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” you suggest, standing.

“I wanna try something new,” he tells you.

Curious, you watch him undress and take a seat back on the couch. He beckons you forward with a wave.

“This isn’t something new."

“Give me a minute,” he replies, hands framing your waist as you straddle him.

Reaching below to grasp his cock, you give him a firm stroke that has him bucking into your hand with a groan. You grin and you sink down slowly. You’ll never get tired of this, the way he stretches and fills you perfectly. A roll of your hips is all it takes for him to make that low sound you love. Before you can do it again he stills your body with a firm grip. His fingers flex against your skin and he shakes his head.

“Don’t move.”

“What are you-”

“Shh,” he says, pressing a finger to your lips. “I just want to be inside you. Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Even though it does feel good there’s an itch at the base of your spine –an overwhelming need to move. You try to lift up, but Rooster keeps you still by sliding his arms around your back to hold you to him. Sometimes you forget how strong he is, that all his training isn’t just to fly planes.

“You’re not going anywhere until I let you,” he warns with a smile.

You’re completely at his mercy and that makes your whole body throb with need.

“Relax,” Rooster encourages, trailing his fingertips down your spine lightly.

He kisses the skin of your chest and turns to rest his head there, nuzzling your breast. When the tension bleeds out of his body you realize he’s not going to move so you might as well get comfortable. You curl an arm around his shoulder and run your fingers through his hair with the other. Eventually you lay your cheek against the top of his head and breathe out.

Minutes tick past with neither of you speaking, just soaking up the feel of the other. His hold loosens by a fraction. Sensing a moment of weakness you cautiously try to rise up on your knees again but don’t get far. Rooster is quick to deliver a harsh slap to your ass in warning.

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1,907 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #little late in the game to post this but it's fun

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