Bedheadloser - Hi :3 - Tumblr Blog

i love that movie

Jennifer's body 🩸

real

someone let me practice eating pussy by eating your pussy...as a friend of course. feel free to tell me how to improve afterward. i'm such an eager learner that i'd curiously flip you over and go, "like this?" before eating your pussy in the way you previously described. pls someone just let me have at your pusssssssy

extremely real tbh

Amab reader would be fine (honestly with so little amab work out there it would be pretty awesome), especially since you usually are so good at doing gn stuff, having a reader whose amab or afab every now and again isnt too big a deal

Just thought I'd ask because I had anons bashin me for even suggesting gender content in the past. I will probably always leave pronouns ambiguous, but sometimes I just want to write a Yan getting creamed by their darling's fat dick y'know

i need him ong 🤷

I am politely asking for you to write about Erin cross dressing please

(Going off an old request I vaguely remember with Erin overhearing you like feminine guys)

"They're so cute- Hey, Y/n what do you like in a partner?"

Erin leans back in his seat away from the commotion at his table to eavesdrop on yours. You were surrounded by friends flapping their gums over someone one of them was interested in - put on the spot for not giving your two cents.

"Uh, I don't know- someone pretty I guess."

"You mean like those people you follow who wear nice makeup and skirts?"

Your coughing fit is enough of an answer for everyone listening in on the conversation. Erin returns to his group, subconsciously groping his features. He had some softer details thanks to his mother, but was he what others would call pretty? The tingle in his chest combated the nausea from eating school food at the thought of you praising his looks. He picks up a tater tot and chucks it at a girl across the table; it being the only way to get her attention otherwise.

She picks it out of her fruit cup. "What the hell, Erin?!"

"Shut up and give me your lip gloss, Bea."

"Why in the fuck would I do that?"

"I'll tell coach you're the one who stole her flask and replaced it with bleach for giving the lead spot in the parade to someone else."

Beatrix angrily shifts through her bag. "Here."

"Thank you." He tosses her his unopened cup as he gets up from the table and heads to the bathroom. He stops by the janitor's closet and jimmies the broken lock until it pops open, grabbing the out of order sign. He wants for everyone to come out of the restroom and sets the sign up as he enters.

Erin reevaluates himself in the mirror. His long hair did confuse the older crowd when they saw him from a distance. He tucks it all into a high ponytail using a spare bracket as a band. Next, he pulls out the cheerleader's makeup. This isn't his first time with the stuff. Both his mom and older sibling dressed him up in the past whenever he asked about their clothes and was interested in trying them. He let his mother put eye shadow on him whenever they went out as a family.

Erin dispenses some of the gloss on his finger, puckering his lips as he cakes them in the foundation. He smacks them together to even the coat out and looks at the results in the mirror.

It's a start. The gloss is barely noticeable outside bright light, but it adds a little more volume to his lips. He goes back in to work on other parts of himself, but the bell cuts his session short.

"Shit!"

Erin hurries out of the bathroom and down to the cafeteria; forgetting about the sign in his haste. The dining area is nearly empty by the time he gets back, and you didn't have the next period together. He looks back to see if you've already gone, the next person to walk by bumping straight into him.

"Sorry- Oh, hey Erin."

"Sup."

You look him up and down. Erin's teeth pick at his lips in anticipation.

"Not much. You look good. See you next period."

The light force of you walking by almost knocks Erin off his feet. You said something nice about him. He didn't think he'd get this far. Maybe a passing glance, but you completely acknowledge him. You thought he looked good. It was a high he never wanted to fall from. One he craved more of with only one possible solution.

-

Erin hisses in pain as the teeth of his skirt's zipper lodge into his skin. "Fucking damn it-"

He pulls the fabric away from his hip and zips it up; kicking an empty shipping box under his bed. It sticks out of the corner due to the other packages overcrowding the space, but he was too excited to take care of them now or throughout the week they all had arrived. The skirt was the final piece of his outfit which also took the most time to arrive. Erin hooks mini pearl earrings in his ears and pulls his shirt from inside the shirt before looking at himself in the full body mirror by his closet.

The outfit consisted of an off the shoulder light pink top and a black skirt that went down to his thighs. The rest of his legs were covered by white stockings and his ginger hair was yet again pulled back. He wore a more noticeable shade of gloss on his lips and his long eyelashes were extended with the use of a wand. His regular choker was switched with a red one with a heart shaped dog tag. He had muscle, but the skirt hugged his body in a way that showed off his curves. Staring at himself, Erin felt pretty. Time for the next phase.

Erin snaps a photo of him at the mirror. He then gets in his bed with his back against the headboard. He grabs a pillow and hugs it to his chest, tugging his shirt down a bit more as he gets into position. He makes sure that his stocking clad thighs are in frame as he takes another pic and pulls up his contact. He knew your number by heart from the various acquaintances he hustled it off of and when you gave it to himself yourself for a project, but what good boyfriend doesn't have their partner in their phone without a cute title?

Erin sends you the pictures without saying a word. He waits about five minutes to pick up his phone again, both happy and disappointed you haven't opened his text.

"Sorry for the pics. Lost a bet and sent them to the wrong number."

His heart leaps out of his chest as his phone chimes.

"No worries. Hope this is okay for me to say, but you look pretty."

It's more than okay. Erin stares at his phone for ages; eyes rolling over the message countless times yet his brain fails to retain it to memory. He'd probably explode if it did. He experiences a moment of clarity in wondering what your expression was when you saw him. Did you see him as desirable. Did you crave him as badly?

Luck worked in Erin's favor that night - for he may soon have an answer.

"Hey- actually, do you want to come over? I'm bored and thought we could hang out or something."

this is so good! vash is js so cute in this 🤝 this writing is js perfect 🗣️🗣️

Your fingers sink into him with a squelch, coated in the otherworldly slick of his cunt. The way he parts for you is magnificent, the petals of his genitals opening to expose wet, gummy flesh. Vash smells of thick musk and honeysuckles, a pheromone that drives you crazy.

“Fuh-huuuugn-“ his hips follow the thrusting of your hand, chasing your touch and howling when your fingers crook up and rub into that sweet spot of his.

“Buh-baby, I, I can’t,” Vash sobs, thighs trembling and legs kicking. You’ve already wrung an orgasm from him, made him squirt that weird fluid that made you thirst for more in the first place. He’s been thoroughly submerged into overstimulation, his voice reaching higher and higher in octave, his hands buried in his own hair and tugging.

“I can’t! I can’t!” He howls, fully thrashing, whimpering when you sit on his thigh.

“You wanna stop?” You ask, hand slowing, watching his red, teary, stuffy face contort into one of relief. Vash swallows, panting heavily, and answers with a shake of his head. “No, no, keep…keep going-!”

You don’t waste time after that, returning to your punishing, no good, way too good pace, leaning down to kiss the valley of his chest.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he’s chanting, little dribbles of pre spurting onto your hand. He’s close again, and the smell of it all invades you once more, like it was taking root in your very brain. It’s so much, you can’t take it, you need more of him— you kiss down lower, teeth catching slightly on puckered scars until you find your place between his thighs.

The sixty billion double dollar man himself looks like he’s going to pass out at the very idea of you between his legs, your tongue sticking out and-

“OH-“

You suck hard on the little pulsing organ you’ve assumed to be his clit, burying your face between the fleshy petals of his labia as your fingers steadily massage that spongy spot inside. His eyes roll back and he screeches like he’s being murdered as he cums again, splattering your face with the mess of it all. You don’t stop, sucking him through it and stretching him on two fingers as his body convulses.

The taste is overwhelmingly sweet, like that honeysuckle scent and you want to drink him dry. Vash paws at your head with a choked up sob, shivering and whimpering when you lick inside of him.

You’re slower now, thank god, yet still filling him with that painful ache of overstimulation. The gunslinger catches your eyes as you look up at him, your face still nestled between his thighs. There’s a look of insatiable hunger in your blown pupils, and Vash prepares himself for the next orgasm you’ll be drawing from him.