Henny: Tb of @abelxo introducin me to fusaros and sayin “nigga we made it”
You’re a sweetheart. Thank you love!
*prays for a better selfie game in ‘14*
Chris Brown booty appreciation
Y’all get y’all life because I did.
Lmfaoooo who made this
daddy just thick in everything below the waist *__*
This is a short
smutstory that was requested by an anon today. It was suggested that I write some sexy time with Henry in a restaurant So here goes. Enjoy anon :)
Rebecca’s eyes scanned the restaurant briefly as she spoke to the woman who greeted her, to all intents and purposes, a maître d’. The redheaded elegant looking woman was looking down at her reservations book. “Mr. Cavill is not here yet, but he will be here soon.” She smiled knowingly and clicked her fingers at a waiter across from them at the dimly lit bar. Rebecca turned around and saw the waiter making his way over with a tray held high. The redhead motioned with her hand to the tray and chimes, “With compliments of Mr. Cavill, he apologizes for being late.” The waiter opened the bottle of Cristal and poured into an elegant crystal flute. Rebecca was not impressed, French wine? At an Italian restaurant? Maybe it was because her family produced wine and she was rather snobbish about this particular subject. However she accepted the flute graciously, not wanting to appear rude to the waiter. She was shown over to the bar area and sat down, alone feeling irritated that Henry was late, he wasn’t usually late, in fact he usually picked her up, but this evening he was going to drive in from out of town so he hadn’t been able to do so. As she sipped at the champagne, she reasoned with herself, he was driving in from Bristol, there may have been traffic, he would not be late if he could help it. The other side of her mind told her that Henry could have called her to say he was going to be late. As these thoughts ran through her head, she glanced up and saw him enter the restaurant hurriedly. Her mouth was lowered to the rim of the flute, her eyes raked over him. He was incredibly handsome and masculine looking. His tall broad frame, the way he wore his suits, the way he strode in confidently. His jawline and chin was strong and well defined, his eyes bore right into her. The overall look was one of pure sex. Her spirits were raised instantaneously, yet her expression remained grim. She was stubborn and she would not allow the feelings that were sparking off the little pulses in her clit to over-ride the fact that she felt she had to punish him for being late.
why. doesn’t. this. have. more. notes.
drabble | august | inspiration: Kissin’ On My Tattoos.
I pray to God she ain’t breakin’ you off, baby.
Augusts’ manly scent was divine. You devoured him, limb to limb, like sweet nestle chocolate. You tenderly wrote your name across his broaden chest, adoring the way his body responded to your touches. Your lips caressed his stubble of chin hair, eyes fixated on his tight jaw clench from the closeness of your lips to his. He smelled the scrumptious scent of blackberries and crème on you, hands pulling at your shirt, breathes hastening in anticipating and hot exhales. You stifled a moan, loving how desperately August wanted you, adoring the greedy need in his fingers as he physically begged to strip you. You flushed and continued your journey to his side burns, caressing his self made tattoos. He turned his head to the side, deepening his touches by caressing your deep curves and you softly kissed self while rubbing made. Your other free hand skimmed past his hairline, feeling the soft curl of his hair. As you switched sides, you stopped, admiring the striking man that you were able to call yours. One that brought you undisclosed pleasure at night underneath the sheets. The one that protected your name from social slander, but consistently and beautifully made you feel like the Queen of the throne. Your cheeks were hotly flared and you captured his lips in a warming kiss, melting like lava underneath those greedy hands, the velvety grace of his tongue and lips like Red Velvet to your taste buds. You explored his sanctuary of tattoos, loving the feel of his creamy skin, worshiping everything about this man. The kiss ended in both hearts hastily racing, chests tight and little of air, passionate lechery steaming through Heaven’s gates and to another infrastructure of Earth. You kissed down his clenched chin, pressed a tender kiss where his heart calmed, tracing your name there… over and over and over. And at that moment, both you and August observed the sweltering passion bleeding through your lips, painting him. This was love.
I wanna smoke with him then let him make me a mommy.
this shit though.
I’m too horny for the amount of sex I’m not having.