realeyesblur

[realeyesblur]

i’ll cry rn

Rhett’s the kinda guy who’s just naturally rough around the edges. Especially when he’s fucking.

He’s all big hands leaving bruises on your hips and thighs and bite marks down your neck as he gives you that wolfish grin with a look in his eyes that just lets you know you’re claimed. That he owns you fully.

But then there’s after the sex when those same rough hands drag along your spine in just barely there motions and his eyes always look a little dimmer. Not disinterested, just at peace. Moments when that devilish mouth of his says the softest things you could ever imagine. Always about how good you are to him, for him- too good really if you ask for his opinion but he knows you hate when he says that.

It’s then that you remember best that he isn’t quite as rough as he comes across as his calloused hands soothe you to sleep against his chest, his heartbeat acting as your lullaby.

[realeyesblur]

[realeyesblur]

me staring at the search bar trying to decide which fictional man I’ll read about tonight:

[realeyesblur]

in case you didn’t know by now, i’m a big dick enthusiast. however!

Clark Kent has a long dick.

he doesn’t need to have a massive dick to be super, he does that all on his own but i think he has a neatly kept, slightly curved cock that can reach so deep inside you that he always have to be careful to calculate how much he needs to leave out not to bruise your cervix.

he’s a polite country boy and wouldn’t fuck you hard or rough, but he wouldn’t be the eye contact, missionary type either. i have this feeling that Clark would drive into you firmly but fairly slow, trying all the positions he can learn of.

Clark doesn’t use the internet much, not really understanding the purpose, nor the function, all that well. he did find a porn site randomly one day, immediately closing his whole laptop down for fear that somebody would find him and shame him from Metropolis to Gotham. he’d finally gotten brave enough to look at it again, tilting his head with simultaneous disgust and curiosity.

women weren’t new to Clark and he knew the portrayal of them in porn was immediately inaccurate and rather demeaning, but, he just couldn’t help obsessing over the way they were bent every which way and his mind kept replaying those ideas but viewing you and him in such positions. he wondered if the fake moans were entirely fictional or merely played up.

he didn’t even have a favourite, just a rotation that added in new positions every time he learnt of one.

you liked looking at his face though, anything close and intimate made that pleasure heighten immensely, especially when you moaned and he couldn’t get that fucking smirk of his stupidly handsome face.

[realeyesblur]

YES THE HUGE DICK BOB FLOYD HIVEMIND IS REAL

Im so glad we all collectively agree that Bob Floyd’s dick is huge

[realeyesblur]

girl i’m tryna think of kinks or scenarios to snippet for Rhett Abbott but i cannot for the life of me 😩

i could argue a breeding kink but like, the last thing Rhett would want is a kid keeping him tied to Wabang for a safety net.

any suggestions?

[realeyesblur]

bob floyd having a huge dick and thinking it’s no big deal.

now this is a guy who wore a t-shirt at the beach, he doesn’t need to flaunt his strength or even his looks. he wears the same style of glasses he has for years, only now are they in the ‘slutty fashion’ category.

Bob liked to be tidy, he always wore slacks and a crisp button up to any outing requiring nice wear. he was a respectful guy though so when Hangman requested everybody come to his apartment in pajamas to celebrate his birthday, Bob had relented.

he usually slept in loose jersey shorts and nothing else, too hot for a t-shirt most times of the year. especially that horrible summer when he’d had to buy three fans because his ac broke.

he rocked up in these grey sweatpants that seemed to hang off him enough to fly under the radar for a good few hours. but then they’d all lay down to watch a movie and he’d turned onto his side, forgetting that his bottoms were less supportive of his member in his also fairly loose boxers.

it had been Fanboy who noticed first, he’d then smacked Payback who’d laughed a little too hard and Hangman was clapping his hands after a moment, “Dang, Bobby, you really do have a Baby On Board with that kind of weapon.” his snickering jab led to the rest of the room noticing.

a bulge was hanging over the very top of Bob’s boxers and he was a shower not a grower so he was quite easily showing all eight-point-something inches of him.

Bob had wanted to die. especially when Phoenix smirked. Natasha just fucking smirked, like she knew and she was impressed.

he’d rushed off to the bathroom so he could use his hand to politely reposition himself and maybe rescue his reputation but the damage had been done. everyone knew he had a massive dick now.

every time after that they visited the bar as a group, Bob would smile at a girl and somebody, anybody, would bring up that she could have the ride of her life if she wanted. everybody always scampered away until you. not you. you’d immediately glanced down to Bob’s crotch with zero shame and just shrugged, “I like a challenge.”

he’d never been happier to have such a big dick than when you struggled to ride him that night.

[realeyesblur]

basically no thoughts except being in a pre-established relationship with Bob and on a sudden, overwhelming day where he comes to this realisation that you are his and he just kisses you so firmly that your head spins and your lips have a tiny, lingering tingle after he pulls away.

he’ll even mutter a meek apology before doing it again

[realeyesblur]

salivating right now

wanna give bob sloppy head that has hum questioning his entire existence

Look, It's what he deserves

"Please Bobby?" He wanted to take you out on a lovely picnic date in a nice secluded spot. Bob was trying to be romantic.

What he didn't account for was that you would be ovulating at the time.

"Darlin, it's alright. I can wait until we get back in the car," He tries to assure you. Tries not to jerk his hips when your lips trace over the denim covered bulge, "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," your chin is laying on top of his poorly hidden erection. With those doe eyes, you look so innocent, despite your intentions being the exact opposite.

Bob Floyd has pretty good restraint. Except when it comes to you.

Which is how he finds himself on his back, the soft fabric of the picnic blanket providing comfort, the sun shining down on a beautiful spring day. Not that he could focus on the picturesque view of nature.

No. Bob's eyes could only focus on you and the way your mouth worked his cock. What you couldn't reach, your hand was covered, stroking in tendam.

Then there were the noises. God, the noises you make. Little moans and grunts that dribble from the corner of your mouth.

Bob had always known he enjoyed giving. Going down on his partner was a pleasure. A chance to make them come completely undone. His past relationships had thoroughly enjoyed this aspect of him, but it was never truly reciprocated to the same degree. It didn’t bother Bob, not greatly. For one, he was big. Going down on him required acceptance of a sore jaw. The other was that he truly enjoyed it, truly got off on getting his partner off. Don’t ask him to count how many times he came while in between a pair of legs, the number was embarrassingly high.

Yes, a blowjob was nice every now and then. But it wasn’t something Bob expected. He came to accept it would be a nice, albeit rare, treat.

Until he met you.

Size wasn’t a deterrence. The man made you see stars with just his tongue. In your mind, it only made sense to return the favor. Getting adjusted to the sheer size of Bob Floyd took some time, but you were certainly up to the task.

Besides, it was so fun to watch the usually well composed and calm WSO come undone. If only his fellow pilots could see him now; perfectly gelled hair now curly due to tossing his head from side to side against the blanket. A flush of red that started from the top of his head and ran down to his chest. His rich baritone voice reduced to strangled groans and whines.

Smiling to yourself, your tongue trailed down his hard shaft, starving off his impending orgasm. Bob always took his time with you, so why not do the same?

“D-darlin, p-please.” Who could think of coherent sentences when your tongue was playing around with his aching balls? Christ, he didn’t even get why others were into that until he met you.

You hummed, playing innocent, “You want something Bobby?” His lithe hips spasmed as you increased the pace of your strokes.

“I….” If Bob wasn’t careful, he was going to ask you to marry him instead of asking to come, “Fuck!” A swear! From Bob Floyd! Always a feat.

“Later. When we’re in the car. First, I wanna feel you come down my throat,” was all you said before returning your mouth to his cock. Swallowing Bob Floyd whole was nearly impossible (despite what romance authors say), but you did your best, nose almost reaching the dark hair that dusted the area below his stomach.

Feeling your throat constrict and squeeze around him, Bob could only throw his head back to let out a deep, strangled groan that had him thankful for picking such a secluded spot. His hands fumbled towards your shoulders, gripping on for dear life as your sinful mouth continued its actions.

Bob tried to be considerate and most of the time he succeeded in that regard. His hips jerked upward entirely on their own and normally, he would apologize for it.

But then he felt your throat tightened, heard you gag on his cock and Bob lost all control. All he could focus on was your mouth and how good it felt around his cock. How were you even real? How was it possible he had you, a fucking goddess, on their hands and knees in a park, making him feel fucking incredible?

Perhaps he and Nat didn't eject that day and Bob had found his way to heaven, now coming down a beautiful angel's throat. That was definitely not mentioned in Sunday School.

You took all he had to offer, delighted in doing so. The way his hips squirm, unsure whether to jerk towards or away from your mouth. Digging your fingers into the flesh, you guided his hips towards your mouth, deadset on continuing until he verbally objected.

Least you could do for the guy who made you squirt for the first time.

[realeyesblur]

This is so Bob Floyd/Reynolds to me

[realeyesblur]

emotionally constipated is my new favourite term

my bob reynolds obsession has made my bob floyd obsession return which also made my jake seresin obsession come back which made me think of a fic idea for jake - always funny, flirty, cocky jake - who doesn't know how to really let his guard down with a woman and admit his feelings and thinks that if he just keeps throwing innuendos at you and propositioning you, eventfully you'll give in and he would rock your world so hard in bed (preferably repeatedly) that eventually you realize you're actually in love with him and he won't have to admit to anything

and you, already totally in love with jake, refuse him at every turn as he keeps trying to get you into bed with him cause you want more than just to be his one night stand.... but maybe, just maybe, once won't hurt? Maybe having him for one night will be better than not having him at all? then he'll leave you alone and you can get over your feelings in peace

[realeyesblur]

hi!

you can call me basically anything beginning with B, i’ve experienced every object and nickname in the book at some point. go for what you like. i’m not bothered on pronouns but i am AFAB and i only write AFAB reader stuff. nonnegotiable.

i’ll write what i’m obsessed with but i have a special spot for lewis pullman characters and all things DC.

if he looks like a nerd then i’ll fuck him.

there’s also a chance i’ll write an ask for a character you like if i think i can do them justice, i might not even be into them. i’m bi so female, male and anything in between is great. give me your asks and i shall fulfill your destiny!

[realeyesblur]

panty sniffer bob fr fr

he wouldn’t do it in a horrible, pervy way. not intentionally at least. he’d just be doing your laundry as a favour, the basket resting on the washing machine as he sorts your lights, darks, brighter colours and then…delicates.

he’d hold your panties up with his whole hand, not pinched between two fingers, he’s an adult and he’s touched far dirtier stuff than some worn panties. then he’d notice the little patch on the crotch that was just a hint lighter than the rest of the fabric.

he wouldn’t huff it or breath it in, he’d just give it an appreciative sniff in the same way someone would stop to smell the roses.

the problem comes when he takes a pair of particularly freshly soaked panties back to his room with him, stopping to sniff them gently when he passes by the little spot on his dresser he keeps them permanently rested on. he’d cradle them in the palm of his hand, keeping his nose from touching the wet patch out of fear of biting off more than he can chew.

Bob would like to say it was an accident when he goes further. he’d claim he’d done it on a whim if he’d been caught, deny the idea that after a frustrating day training with Bucky that he hadn’t yanked that garment from it’s sacred spot, pushed his sweatpants down his thighs and immediately slid them over his aching dick, spit on his hand and (embarrassing quickly) cum into the fabric.

and he’d die before admitting he rubbed his cum into the place where your own slick had stained, using his thumb to firmly spread the thick substance before washing them — barely — and returning them straight to the top of your clean panties in your dresser so you’d wear those ones next.

the boner he popped when he peaked the fabric under leggings the next day was borderline painful.

[realeyesblur]

horny moment: bob just stares at your boobs and zones out sometimes

[realeyesblur]

in my opinion,

void IS a separate entity but I disagree that Sentry is his own being, that we should speak about Sentry like he’s some other creature entirely.

“You can call me Sentry.” not, “Bob’s not here.”

and that line was only in response to John calling him ‘Bobby’ as his father used to, he was tripping with power and flaunted his title as a superhero because he didn’t feel John had a right to refer to him other than professionally.

notice he didn’t correct Yelena?

and even that, the void is a manifestation of his darkness, how he talks to himself in the darkness, in the mirror, alone in the shower. they are still one in the same but Bob sees void as being a separate entity because he feels overpowered by it, by a weight to crush him, he feels consumed by something else.

also i don’t capitalise void because that’s not his name, it’s just what he is by definition, he has no name because he is Bob.

if you want Bob to be a representation of a personality disorder then go for that idea! but in terms of what the movie actually displays, Sentry is just him coming into a manic state, not a manifestation of an endless depressive feeling like the void

coolio ✌️

[realeyesblur]

“bob is five apples tall”

He did meth.

[realeyesblur]

i will take asks, nsfw or just regular fluff, i’m probably gonna lay off the angst depending on the character just so i don’t get lost in depression lmao