The world needs more RDJ porn.

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I know this tumblr hasn’t been churning out the RDJ porn at the pace I would have liked it to, but fear not because I’ve got a few posts (including a prompt) almost ready to go that will be up shortly next week when I get back from a short holiday.

So, look forward to that!

Aug 4

Submit prompts and/or ideas or whatever really to 50 Shades of RDJ!

Hey guys!

Just a friendly heads up that the ask box is totally open to prompts or ideas for some cheesy RDJ porn.

Cool? Cool.

image

Jul 5
Original ass gif by sulu (x)
Shit.
This always happens to me on my bad hair days, either I’ll run into an ex or into some random hot stranger. Which is not in the realm of the impossible right now, unless of course “random hot stranger” A at 2 o’clock hasn’t, I hope to god, noticed me staring at his beautiful round, and I would like to believe - tight, ass for the better part of five minutes. Although to call the adonis now presently leaning against the ice cream cart just yards away from me a “random hot stranger” would be a crime punishable by death (auto-erotic asphyxiation gone awry being the most appropriate of methods if you ask me). With more personal reflection I notice that I know exactly who the man is, and if I can believe the internet gossip blogs telling me that his latest movie has been filming in the environs of this little town then holy. Fuck. 
At that moment I snap out of my mental stupor and see him gesture to the heavily bearded, cap wearing man to his left. Oh please baby Jesus don’t notice me don’t notice me do- He gestures the man to hold his ice cream cone while he pays the young kid wearing the uniform, and from what I can tell from the boy’s huge eyes, he left a nice tip as well. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as off the hook as I had thought because to my absolute horror, they start towards me.
Right now a leather jacket wearing, 5’8”, living, breathing, stubble faced, lightly grey haired sex god and his apprentice are moving in my direction, for all I know in slow motion. That’s how it plays in my mind. Speaking of in my mind, I wish at this very moment I had a wind machine running through my hair so I could sexily gaze up through my fringe and do that half smile that girls have perfected in generations of romantic comedies. But nope, in this real life my hair is in a pony tail and the sexiest thing about me right now is the cheesy romance novel that’s been sitting on my lap while I wait for the fire works to commence. Instead of half smiling, I giggle, and I’m probably shaking a fair bit as I try to stand up from my blanket. So many thoughts and emotions were stirring in my mind, and I could almost feel my mammalian brain overheating from all the work.
“It’s ok, babe.”
He’s standing oddly close to me, and I can smell the coffee on his breath.
“I… I just…
- Want a cone? It’s chocolate chip cookie dough! I am having bubblegum personally, but you seemed like the cookie dough type of girl.
-Um.. yes… please?”
As he hands me the cone of double scooped chocolate chip cookie dough (confession time, that’s my fucking favourite) ice cream I realize to which point I have no idea what is actually going on though my top hypothesis is that I’ve overdosed on Nyquil and I’m actually in a deep slumber on the bathroom floor until my roommate finds me and wakes me. I see that his assistant has ushered everyone away to another area of the park, so know it’s just me and this vision of perfection, in an impromptu V.I.P. area of the park.
“You know what I like most about ice cream?
-… What would that be?
-The way it looks running down someone’s chin.”
The visual isn’t lost on me.
As the last syllables were leaving his lips his dark, liquid eyes locked onto mine. I was drowning in his intent and had only to choose one of his long, thick, languid lashes to save me.
I was never a good swimmer, so naturally, I let myself drown.
They say that when you drown in frigid water will induce your body into a  hypothermic state and greatly improve your chances of survival (blah blah brains blah oxygen blah blah). They don’t tell you what happens if you drown in lava. Because whatever this feeling is. It. Is. Hot.
He’s put the ice cream down on the ground to melt in the sun, he’s not speaking anymore, he’s breathing heavily. I bite my lip when I see the force with which his nostrils are flaring. This encourages him to throw his jacket off landing on my picnic basket. His clearly defined muscles are visible through his slate grey t-shirt. My eyes gravitate to his pectorals and his hardening nipples. Not one to be outdone he brings his hand under my shirt and up towards my breasts, whose nipples have been doing a little erecting of their own. His thumbs massage them in slow, circular movements and it drives me nuts. His mouth, after making a tour of my collarbone, is now making it’s way up my neck. Each kiss becoming dangerously closer to a bite than the last. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press him closer. He nibbles my earlobe, gently licks it, and then breathes slowly, ominously. I’m surprised at the force of my reaction, having assumed that all of my blood was now busy engorging my lady land well below my belt. 
My whimpers growing louder, and his skin getting wetter, he stops. Though only for the length of time that it takes to fumble with his buckle and pull his jeans down, revealing boxers worn for the holiday, I’m sure. While the Spongebob-as-Uncle-Sam  motif was cute, what kept me from letting out an “aww” was the serious bulge behind them. While he undoes my bra, I reach for the boxers, releasing the Leviathanesque phallus beneath.
My first instinct is to hold it between my two hands and just absorb its warmth, admire it. I hear a little groan escape his lips and he moves my hand so that it is pulling down on his length. He lets a breathy “this” into my ear. I proceed massaging his member and feel it hardening, lengthening under my touch. Idle hands being the devil’s work, his own hands have found their way into my jeans, and are now intimately cupping the warming contents of my American Eagle boyshorts. I lift my lips from his throat to his ear, long enough to pronounce the words “please, now” and as if he was waiting for the magic words he inserts two fingers into my pulsating cave. In and out, in and out, I can feel him stretching my vaginal corona, prepping it for what is to cum come. He continues this until my breathing hitches and reaches that final phase where everything is sure to let go. Suddenly he stops, removes his hand and licks his fingers, with a dark grin on his face. He removes my ever quickening hand from his penis and pins me on the blanket I had planned on watching the fireworks on. He tilts my pelvis slightly upward and allows himself an easy and smooth entrance past my labia minora, and into my vaginal opening, now and then bringing a thumb down to make sure he’s not neglecting the clitoris. His girth, length, and curve were surely placed in his genetic blue prints by angels who knew how to find the G-spot. Fuck. 
I can’t help myself but to give his gluteal muscles a nice squeeze… then spank, every once in a while.
Our bodies pulsating against each other, each thrust slapping skin against skin, sex against sex, we both feel our pulses quicken. He knows. In one swift move he pulls out of me and, pushing my head down, thrusts into my open mouth, causing me to initially gag. In only a few moments he lets out a guttural, primal grunt and I am witness to the most beautiful tummy spasm that I’ve seen in ages and his warmth fills my mouth. I swallow hungrily, noting that he was a man who obviously eats his fruits, letting a little dribble down my chin. He smiles and kisses me forcefully while the hand that isn’t holding the back of my head slides it’s way back down to my still pulsating flower, as I feel his forefinger reach upward and toward my bellybutton, I want to scream though can’t as he uses this as an opportunity to push his tongue against mine, making them dance for what seems like a beautiful lifetime. As he raises his dripping hand back up he inserts his thumb into my mouth.
“Suck.”
I obey, and both our bodies spent, he lays down beside me, and lets the sun’s rays caress his face and then I..
“Wake up! Jesus I almost called the ambulance!
Wha-wha- Robert?..
What the hell are you talking about? I just found you passed out on the bathroom floor? Do you even read the indications on your cough syrup? That shit’s heavy duty…”
I let the voice of my roommate drown away as I start to lightly sob for the best fourth of July that never was.

Original ass gif by sulu (x)

Shit.

This always happens to me on my bad hair days, either I’ll run into an ex or into some random hot stranger. Which is not in the realm of the impossible right now, unless of course “random hot stranger” A at 2 o’clock hasn’t, I hope to god, noticed me staring at his beautiful round, and I would like to believe - tight, ass for the better part of five minutes. Although to call the adonis now presently leaning against the ice cream cart just yards away from me a “random hot stranger” would be a crime punishable by death (auto-erotic asphyxiation gone awry being the most appropriate of methods if you ask me). With more personal reflection I notice that I know exactly who the man is, and if I can believe the internet gossip blogs telling me that his latest movie has been filming in the environs of this little town then holy. Fuck

At that moment I snap out of my mental stupor and see him gesture to the heavily bearded, cap wearing man to his left. Oh please baby Jesus don’t notice me don’t notice me do- He gestures the man to hold his ice cream cone while he pays the young kid wearing the uniform, and from what I can tell from the boy’s huge eyes, he left a nice tip as well. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as off the hook as I had thought because to my absolute horror, they start towards me.

Right now a leather jacket wearing, 5’8”, living, breathing, stubble faced, lightly grey haired sex god and his apprentice are moving in my direction, for all I know in slow motion. That’s how it plays in my mind. Speaking of in my mind, I wish at this very moment I had a wind machine running through my hair so I could sexily gaze up through my fringe and do that half smile that girls have perfected in generations of romantic comedies. But nope, in this real life my hair is in a pony tail and the sexiest thing about me right now is the cheesy romance novel that’s been sitting on my lap while I wait for the fire works to commence. Instead of half smiling, I giggle, and I’m probably shaking a fair bit as I try to stand up from my blanket. So many thoughts and emotions were stirring in my mind, and I could almost feel my mammalian brain overheating from all the work.

“It’s ok, babe.”

He’s standing oddly close to me, and I can smell the coffee on his breath.

“I… I just…

- Want a cone? It’s chocolate chip cookie dough! I am having bubblegum personally, but you seemed like the cookie dough type of girl.

-Um.. yes… please?”

As he hands me the cone of double scooped chocolate chip cookie dough (confession time, that’s my fucking favourite) ice cream I realize to which point I have no idea what is actually going on though my top hypothesis is that I’ve overdosed on Nyquil and I’m actually in a deep slumber on the bathroom floor until my roommate finds me and wakes me. I see that his assistant has ushered everyone away to another area of the park, so know it’s just me and this vision of perfection, in an impromptu V.I.P. area of the park.

“You know what I like most about ice cream?

-… What would that be?

-The way it looks running down someone’s chin.”

The visual isn’t lost on me.

As the last syllables were leaving his lips his dark, liquid eyes locked onto mine. I was drowning in his intent and had only to choose one of his long, thick, languid lashes to save me.

I was never a good swimmer, so naturally, I let myself drown.

They say that when you drown in frigid water will induce your body into a  hypothermic state and greatly improve your chances of survival (blah blah brains blah oxygen blah blah). They don’t tell you what happens if you drown in lava. Because whatever this feeling is. It. Is. Hot.

He’s put the ice cream down on the ground to melt in the sun, he’s not speaking anymore, he’s breathing heavily. I bite my lip when I see the force with which his nostrils are flaring. This encourages him to throw his jacket off landing on my picnic basket. His clearly defined muscles are visible through his slate grey t-shirt. My eyes gravitate to his pectorals and his hardening nipples. Not one to be outdone he brings his hand under my shirt and up towards my breasts, whose nipples have been doing a little erecting of their own. His thumbs massage them in slow, circular movements and it drives me nuts. His mouth, after making a tour of my collarbone, is now making it’s way up my neck. Each kiss becoming dangerously closer to a bite than the last. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press him closer. He nibbles my earlobe, gently licks it, and then breathes slowly, ominously. I’m surprised at the force of my reaction, having assumed that all of my blood was now busy engorging my lady land well below my belt. 

My whimpers growing louder, and his skin getting wetter, he stops. Though only for the length of time that it takes to fumble with his buckle and pull his jeans down, revealing boxers worn for the holiday, I’m sure. While the Spongebob-as-Uncle-Sam  motif was cute, what kept me from letting out an “aww” was the serious bulge behind them. While he undoes my bra, I reach for the boxers, releasing the Leviathanesque phallus beneath.

My first instinct is to hold it between my two hands and just absorb its warmth, admire it. I hear a little groan escape his lips and he moves my hand so that it is pulling down on his length. He lets a breathy “this” into my ear. I proceed massaging his member and feel it hardening, lengthening under my touch. Idle hands being the devil’s work, his own hands have found their way into my jeans, and are now intimately cupping the warming contents of my American Eagle boyshorts. I lift my lips from his throat to his ear, long enough to pronounce the words “please, now” and as if he was waiting for the magic words he inserts two fingers into my pulsating cave. In and out, in and out, I can feel him stretching my vaginal corona, prepping it for what is to cum come. He continues this until my breathing hitches and reaches that final phase where everything is sure to let go. Suddenly he stops, removes his hand and licks his fingers, with a dark grin on his face. He removes my ever quickening hand from his penis and pins me on the blanket I had planned on watching the fireworks on. He tilts my pelvis slightly upward and allows himself an easy and smooth entrance past my labia minora, and into my vaginal opening, now and then bringing a thumb down to make sure he’s not neglecting the clitoris. His girth, length, and curve were surely placed in his genetic blue prints by angels who knew how to find the G-spot. Fuck. 

I can’t help myself but to give his gluteal muscles a nice squeeze… then spank, every once in a while.

Our bodies pulsating against each other, each thrust slapping skin against skin, sex against sex, we both feel our pulses quicken. He knows. In one swift move he pulls out of me and, pushing my head down, thrusts into my open mouth, causing me to initially gag. In only a few moments he lets out a guttural, primal grunt and I am witness to the most beautiful tummy spasm that I’ve seen in ages and his warmth fills my mouth. I swallow hungrily, noting that he was a man who obviously eats his fruits, letting a little dribble down my chin. He smiles and kisses me forcefully while the hand that isn’t holding the back of my head slides it’s way back down to my still pulsating flower, as I feel his forefinger reach upward and toward my bellybutton, I want to scream though can’t as he uses this as an opportunity to push his tongue against mine, making them dance for what seems like a beautiful lifetime. As he raises his dripping hand back up he inserts his thumb into my mouth.

“Suck.”

I obey, and both our bodies spent, he lays down beside me, and lets the sun’s rays caress his face and then I..

“Wake up! Jesus I almost called the ambulance!

Wha-wha- Robert?..

What the hell are you talking about? I just found you passed out on the bathroom floor? Do you even read the indications on your cough syrup? That shit’s heavy duty…”

I let the voice of my roommate drown away as I start to lightly sob for the best fourth of July that never was.

Hey! So I made this Tumblr—

iwantcupcakes:

Fifty Shades of Robert Downey Jr.

Because:

  1. The world needs more Robert Downey Jr. porn.
  2. catlitternwhiskersonkittens is evil.
  3. rdj-sexualfrustration is dead most of the time, unfortunately.
  4. It takes off a lot of pressure of writing RDJ-related fiction if I use Fifty Shades of Grey as my template.  
  5. ‘Cause now I can write bad porn.

Most importantly, because you really don’t know what you’ve been doing with your life until you’ve read something like this:

“I suck on his organ like a vacuum. My tongue is doing the rumba on his length. I now have my very own Robert Downey Jr.-flavored popsicle, tasting both of Iron Man and Sherlock Holmes at the same time with a tinge of the tantalizing sweetness of Harry Lockhart.”

If anybody is interested in co-running, please please send me a message. Hopefully someone who has read Fifty Shades of Grey (I’ve only read excerpts) or something equally horrible.

To any of my followers who are cringing at this post, I’m sorry. 

Just wanted to say that I’ve just downloaded Fifty Shades of Grey (LOL, not paying for that).

Expect RDJ’s lingual talents to stimulate your most intimate mucosal membranes hopefully tomorrow or the next day. Or something.

Thanks for following and may RDJ have mercy on your loins.