#also they really fumbled the opportunity I thought they were going for - I thought Mollie was going to be a Nurse Joy who didn't want to be

[airyairyaucontraire]

I might have said it before but I do like how in Pokémon Horizons Ikue Ohtani isn't just playing Pikachu with a hat on. Captain Pikachu has a distinct voice with gruffer tones than OG Pikachu, and it's generally more serious and less playful. Captain Pikachu doesn't fuck around.

[helnjk]

Sweater - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes

hi could you write something for george weasley using prompts 29, 11, 36? if your requests are still open❤️⚡️

“i’m running out of jumpers, just so you know”

“i like having something that smells like you”

“how long have you been standing there?”

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: the 5 times George Weasley sees you in his sweater and the 1 time you get your own. 

Warnings: mentions of food

A/N: we’re just gonna //ignore// that this doesn’t follow the canon timeline exactly (especially where they spent christmas certain years) okay? cool. also! this was very festive so i guess this can be counted as a christmas fic 🥰

Prompts are in bold

-

One 

The Gryffindor common room was freezing. Despite being situated as close to the fire as physically possible (without getting burned), you shivered and shook in your thin sweater. You were trying to work on a last minute potions essay, the last one before the Christmas hols began, but your current freezing state was stopping you from writing another word. 

You scanned the empty room, most students already having retired to bed that night. A flash of blue and yellow in the far corner of the room caught your eye. Quickly, you scrambled up off the floor and rushed to investigate. 

On the back of one of the squishy red couches hung a blue sweater with a yellow letter G right in the middle. You knew immediately who owned it: George Weasley, another Gryffinder first year like you. With another glance around the room, you quickly snatched it up and slid it over your head.

Immediately, the thick wool provided enough warmth for you to get back to your work. 

A while later, you finished the last sentence of your paper with a flourish, just as you heard someone shuffle down the spiral staircase and into the common room. Your head snapped up as the person in question came to view and your heart stopped.

“Y/L/N?” George whispered, barely making your face out since the fire was directly behind you. 

“Hi George,” You squeaked, “What’re you doing up so late?” 

His eyes darted around the room in search of something, and you felt your stomach drop. “Erm, yeah. I got cold so I was just looking for my–” 

When his gaze circled back to you he finally noticed what you were wearing, “Is that my sweater?” 

You nodded, squirming under his gaze. If it wasn’t past midnight in the dead of winter, and if he wasn’t hazy with sleep, he would’ve probably teased you senselessly about it. But seeing the sweater swallowing you, the shoulders slipping off and the sleeves way past your fingers, all he could do was grin. 

“It’s alright,” He said, “Just wanted to know where it was. At least now I know that it’s in good hands.” 

With a cheeky wink, he turned on his heel and trudged back up the boys’ staircase. You were left staring at where he previously stood, your mouth slightly agape.

Did that really just happen?

Two 

Gleeful shouts carried over from the snow covered fields and into the warm house. From your spot by the window, you could just barely make out the tiny figures zooming past each other, contrasting against the pale landscape. 

You clutched at a steaming mug of tea, basking in the warmth it gave your chilly hands. Despite your best efforts, you were still shivering in the house that most likely had several heating charms in place at all times. 

After being friends with the Weasley twins for nearly three and a half years, you were finally going to spend the Christmas hols at the Burrow with their family. To say you were excited would be an understatement. With everything going on in school, you were ecstatic to be able to spend some time with some of your best friends. 

The warmth and the heavenly smells radiating from the kitchen made you gravitate towards the door. Maybe helping out with the cooking could ease up some of the chill you had in your bones. 

“Would you like some help, Molly?” You asked hopefully, seeing her putter about in the kitchen. You knew that she had a whole hoard of mouths to fill, so you were happy to offer her some assistance. 

She tutted in response, “Nonsense, dear! I’m quite fine managing on my own. Thank you for the offer.” 

With a swish of her wand, several things in the kitchen began moving at once and you were left to your own devices. You spared a quick glance out the window, only to see the silhouettes still racing in the sky. 

An idea struck you and you made your way up the stairs as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to yourself. Thankfully, the twins’ room was just on the second floor of the house and their door was left slightly ajar. 

You were quick to spot George’s battered old trunk laying at the foot of his bed. Your cold fingers nimbly popped the latch open and clutched onto exactly what you were looking for. His old blue Christmas sweater was soft to touch and a little worn, but you thought that it added to its charm. 

One of the main reasons why you rummaged through George’s things for his sweater, instead of Fred’s, was that his distinct woodsmoke and apple scent clung onto it and made you feel safe and warm wrapped in it. You pressed the soft fabric to your face and inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the familiar scent of your best friend. 

You were not sniffing the jumper because it reminded you of your crush on a certain redheaded twin, no. Not at all. 

Swiftly, you lifted the jumper above your head and slipped into it. You loved the feel of the warm wool enveloping your frame. It would have been almost perfect if you hadn’t heard someone clear their throat from the doorway.

Your heart jumped to your throat as you turned on your heel and spotted George leaning against the doorway. 

“Well, well, well,” He teased, making his way to you, “What do we have here? A sweater thief?” 

“How long have you been standing there?” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“Long enough to see that you’re apparently obsessed with me.” He grinned cheekily. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide the fact that a blush was creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks, “Shove off, Weasley.” 

He swung an arm loosely around your shoulders, “Well I don’t think you can use that kind of language on me now, Y/N. Especially when that’s my jumper you’re going around wearing and sniffing.” 

You groaned, shoving your head on his chest to hide your embarrassment, “I just like having something th–”

“You’re going to have to speak up, love, I can’t quite understand you.” He said, and you felt like his teasing grin would be permanently etched onto his face. 

“I like having something that smells like you, okay?” You mumbled, this time a little louder and less muffled. 

When George didn’t immediately respond, your heart began to pick up its pace in your chest. Slowly, you backed away from his face and your gaze landed on the flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

A slow smile etched itself onto your face, “Have I just made the George Weasley blush?”

“Oh shut it sweater sniffer.”  

You laughed, the slightly awkward tension dissipating at the sound and the two of you made your way back downstairs. 

Three 

“Psst.” A voice whispered next to you. 

Your brows furrowed and you looked up from the book in front of you to see your boyfriend grinning cheekily at you, “Yes, George?” 

The Great Hall was practically silent, the only sounds resonating throughout the space were the scratching of quills and the rolling of parchment. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you weren't about to get scolded for chatting during study hall. 

“Nothing,” He said bashfully, “I just think you look very beautiful today.” 

Surprised at his sudden show of affection, you grinned up at him, “Thanks Georgie.” 

Your hand slid across the dark stained table to squeeze his and you hadn’t let go as you continued on with your coursework. You were able to get quite a bit done before you felt George squeezing your hand to get your attention. When your eyes met his, you sent him a look to say what is it this time? 

Slowly, he shuffled close enough to you to whisper directly into your ear, “I think you’d look much better wearing something of mine though.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you focused back on the rolls of parchment before you. Ever since you two had officially gotten together, George had a thing for you wearing any type of clothing of his. His most favorite, he had confessed, was when you wore his Christmas jumpers. The nostalgia attached to the piece of clothing and seeing it envelop you made his heart soar whenever you’d slip it over your head. 

The next Friday, despite the freezing weather, all students were required to head out to the Black Lake to watch the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. You took it as an opportunity to adorn the blue and yellow sweater, making sure to layer appropriately for the below zero temperatures. 

You could hear the twins’ shenanigans before you even reached the stands. The pair of red hair stood out among the crowds and let you know which direction to make your way to. Thankfully, you also spotted Lee Jordan saving a few seats around him while the twins went and collected bets. 

When you reached him, he sent you a grin and patted a space next to him. The two of you chatted aimlessly for a bit, waiting not so patiently for either the twins to come back or for the second task to begin. 

From George’s spot within the crowds, he glanced back at where he knew Lee to be saving a seat for him. The sight of you all bundled up in his sweater made something in his heart stop. The chilly breeze nipping at your face had caused your nose to turn slightly pink, and the way your hands fumbled at the end of the long sleeves moved something in him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to keep you in his life for as long as you let him. 

You catch his eye from your position and send him a small wave. He grins and returns the gesture before Fred nudges him in the side to take the payment a third year is holding out. 

Four 

The whole house seemed to absorb the darkness that the Weasley clan brought with them. It was nearing sun up, and the lot of you along with Harry, Remus, and Sirius were all gathered in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, awaiting any sort of sign that Arthur was going to be okay. 

After being shaken awake at the dead of night by George who was a mess of stumbled over words and tight grips, you didn’t think of anything else but to slip on the sweater he had lent you and follow him to Dumbledore’s office. Professor McGonagall simply raised her eyebrows at your presence in the midst of the rest of the Weasley children, saying nothing as she saw how George had clung on so tightly to you. 

The illegal portkey Dumbledore created landed you right in the middle of the dreary old house you had spent much of your summer in. Remus and Sirius had tried their hardest to distract everyone from the brutality of the situation, but your boyfriend and his siblings wanted nothing but to sit around anxiously for any signal from the outside world. 

So far, you had nodded in and out of sleep, your head lightly tapping against George’s shoulder as you fought to just be there with him. His grip on your hand had not ceased, but you weren’t complaining. His leg bounced up and down anxiously and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“It’ll be okay Georgie,” Became your mantra of the night, whispering it every so often and rubbing the back of his hand gently with your thumb. 

He wouldn’t say anything in reply, his red rimmed eyes were unfocused, but you knew he heard you with the way he squeezed your hand. 

When the message from Molly comes, spirits are slightly raised, but there’s still so much uncertainty. You decided to step out for a moment to use the restroom, splashing some cold water on your face in an attempt to wake yourself up some more. As you took in your sleep deprived and disheveled state in the mirror, you remembered that you’ve been wearing George’s sweater. 

Quickly, you haphazardly pulled the garment over your head, smoothing down the crumpled sleeping shirt you’ve been wearing under it. In a flash, you’re making your way to where the Weasley clan has settled in for what seems like the whole day and take a seat next to George once again.

Silently, you held out his sweater to him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that you were offering for him to wear it. 

“Thought you’d need the extra comfort right now,” You whispered, urging him to put it on. 

A spark of recognition blazed in his eyes and he gently took the soft sweater from your hands. The moment it slipped over his head, he was immediately engulfed in your scent. All of a sudden, he was transported to three years prior when you had told him you enjoyed having something that smelled like him. 

When his eyes met yours, you could make out a ghost of a smile on his lips. It had been the first expression he had pulled that night, or well it was early morning now, that wasn’t a grimace or a look of concern. 

You smiled tentatively back at him, and he took your hand in his once again. 

Five 

The pale winter morning light leaked in through the windows and you blinked blearily. The soft inhale and exhale of George beside you and the warmth under the covers almost convinces you that you could afford to shut your eyes for a few more minutes. Almost. You groan as you remember what day it is and that you should be up soon. 

It was Christmas morning. The first Christmas after the war had ended, and everyone was eager to bring some festive cheer back into their lives after having gone through such dark times. 

As silently as you could, you left the warm confines of the duvet and began to pad your way into the kitchen. Christmas morning called for a full english and a pot of fresh tea. On the way out of the room you shared with George, you snagged one of his older blue sweaters and pulled it over your head. 

Thankfully, that morning Fred hadn’t made it out of bed yet. Breakfast at the flat above the shop could go two ways; either you made it out of bed first and got the food cooking on the stove before one of the twins stumbled in sleepily, or Fred would be sat on the couch nursing his nth cup of tea that morning, having woken up due to some nightmares that he couldn’t quite shake off yet. 

With a flick of your wand, ingredients made their way into their perspective pans, and plates and utensils floated down from the cupboards and onto the kitchen table. Soon, the enticing aroma of your favorite meal of the day was wafting through the corridors and into the other rooms. 

As you were plating the steaming food, a voice called out from behind you, “I’m running out of jumpers you know.”

You looked up from your position fixing the plates of food on the table, to see George leaning against the door frame. Clad in only his pajama bottoms, you silently wondered if he was just never cold or if he did this to tease you on purpose. 

“What’s yours is mine, love.” You shrugged, walking over to him and pressing a small kiss at the very edge of his mouth.

“Guess it’s good that you make me wonderful food everyday,” He says, eyeing the food laid out in front of him. 

You roll your eyes playfully, “Oi, keep talking like that and I’m making meals just for myself!” 

-

Later in the day, you sipped peacefully on Molly’s famous hot chocolate, seated on the squishy couch as the rest of the Weasley clan began to open their gifts. Fred was sat under the tree, rummaging through the different wrapped packages and throwing them to whomever they were addressed to. Little by little, each Weasley sibling began to pull out their signature colored Weasley jumper. 

It filled your heart with so much warmth that you could all come together, especially after the last year you’ve had. Being separated from the people you loved and cared for the most had really taken a toll on all of you, so being under one roof together with nothing dark looming at the back of your minds, was such a blessing. 

“Hey,” George whispered from where he stood behind the couch, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You turned slightly to look back at him, “What’s up, Georgie?” 

“Come with me,” He nudged his head in the direction of the door. 

“But I’m all warm and cozy,” You whined, motioning to the cup of hot chocolate in your hands, “Do I have to?” 

“Oh just come on,” He rolled his eyes, going to place his hands under your armpits in an attempt to lift you off the sofa. 

“Oi!” You complained, “I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t get your wand in a knot.” 

A few of the Weasleys sent amused glances your way, but this kind of interaction wasn’t unusual in the household so they mostly left you to your own devices. You hadn’t noticed that Molly was eyeing you with a slightly cheeky glint in her eye. She knew exactly what her son had in mind. 

You gently placed your mug on the coffee table before turning around and linking your arm with George’s. He brought you just by the window of the kitchen and gave you a big grin.

“Alright then, Weasley. What’s all this about then?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I just wanted a little privacy so I could give you your gift.” An eyebrow raised slightly, you waited for him to continue, “I just thought you would finally like one of your own this year.” 

To say you were confused was an understatement. You eyed your boyfriend nervously as he pulled a wrapped package seemingly from thin air. You wasted no time pulling the ribbon and carefully tearing at the brown paper. 

Inside was a sweater that matched the exact blue of George’s, and right smack in the middle was the initial of your name in the same shade of yellow. 

Your eyes darted from the gift and back up at the wonderful soul in front of you, and you couldn’t help but feel the prick of tears welling up. 

He noticed this too, “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just thought that you loved my jumpers so much that I would make you your own–”

At the realization that he had made the sweater himself, and hadn’t commissioned Molly to do it, made the dams of your eyes break. Your tears were freely falling by now and all you could think of doing was throwing your arms around George and pulling him into a slightly salty but ever so sweet kiss. 

“I love it,” You whispered once you broke apart, “This is the best Christmas gift ever.” 

[cpd5021]

Under the Weather

Sorry for the delay guys!! Happy Wednesday! (Thursday 🤦🏼‍♀️) Also, this is being posted from my phone because that’s what I’m working with at the moment. I’ll edit it’s appearance later when I can get on my computer.

Under the Weather

“Hailey…”

Jay’s singsong voice reaches my ears, seconds before a gentle hand grips my shoulder, giving it a soft nudge. I groan in response, feeling slightly disoriented as to why I’m seemingly half asleep and Jay is waking me up. I open my eyes and manage to pick my head up off the table I was laying against. A quick glance around the room tells me I’m in the break room, a half drank cup of coffee sits before me and I briefly remember making it. I look up at Jay who’s wearing a concerned look on his face as he sits down in the chair next to me, his hand still on my shoulder.

“Hey…”

I mumble weakly, my voice coming out hoarse from the sore throat that’s been developing all morning.

“Hey. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look awful.”

He sends me an apologetic look as I scoff at his words. I rub my hands across my face, trying to relieve some of the pressure I can feel building in my sinuses. My face feels hot and I’m not sure if it's from the short nap I just had or if I’m getting a fever.

“I kinda feel awful.”

I reply, groaning again when my throat protests an attempt at swallowing. I pick up the mug of coffee and take a sip, grimacing when the now cold liquid touches my lips. Jay takes the mug from my hand and stands to refill it with some fresh coffee. I send him a grateful smile as I carefully sip at the hot beverage.

“You should go home, get some rest.”

His voice sounds worried and honestly, it’s kind of cute.

“I’ll be fine. I can survive the rest of the day and then I’ll pass out tonight.”

I smirk at him, hoping he’ll buy my fake chipper attitude. He doesn’t, of course.

“Hailey...you already did pass out, in the break room.”

He half teased, but I could tell I wasn’t going to win this argument. I nodded solemnly and pushed myself away from the table.

“You’re probably right.”

I stood from my seat, setting my half drank coffee in the sink and turning to leave the room. Jay followed behind me with a smug look on his face. I turned to raise an eyebrow in question, only making his smirk deepen.

“You must be sick, Hailey Upton just said I was right!”

He teased and playfully bumped into my shoulder as we walked through the doorway.

“Shut up.”

I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics as I headed towards the locker room to grab my things. Once at my locker, I sat on the bench in front of it and let my head rest in my hands. I was feeling worse by the minute and at this point I wasn’t even sure I wanted to drive home. I reached up and shut my locker door and then laid back on the bench, pulling my jacket across my chest and over my face in a makeshift blanket. Just as I was about to welcome sleep, I heard the locker room door open. I peaked my head out from under my coat and was met with Jay’s disapproving stare.

“I’ll drive you home.”

He informed me, stepping closer to pull the coat off of me and then reaching a hand down to pull me back up. Once standing, he helped me slide the coat onto my arms and we headed back out into the bullpen.

“Woah girl, didn’t know The Walking Dead was casting in Chicago.”

Kevin teased after taking one look at my sullen appearance. Kim gave me a sympathetic look, annoyed by his teasing and Vanessa gave me a small wave from her desk, looking apologetic that she was stuck on the phone. Adam simply gave an “oof” as I walked by, earning him an eye roll on my part. We headed down the steps, hoping to avoid any other pleasantries from anyone taking in my appearance, but Platt didn’t let anything slip by her.

“What’s the matter goldie locks, can’t find the right bed?”

I simply raised my hand in a halfhearted wave, pursing my lips as we walked by. Once in Jay’s truck, I let my head slump back against the seat, already feeling sleep coming my way.

“Do you need to grab anything before you go home?”

Jay asked, starting the truck and pulling us out of the lot.

“No, I’m all set. Thanks though.”

I gave him a weak smile, keeping my eyes closed as I felt him accelerate.

“Soup? Medicine?”

He pushed, sounding worried once again.

“I just want my bed.”

I mumbled, eager to climb in between my sheets and sleep this illness away. The drive to my place seemed short, but that was probably because I may have passed out again on the way. Jay pulled into my driveway and hoped out from his seat. I watched his head come around the front of the truck and then he was pulling my door open and helping me down. He followed me up the steps, apparently not trusting me to not just fall asleep on my front porch and stood behind me as I fumbled with the keys. In my hazy state I managed to drop them onto the ground below. Before my body could respond, Jay was swooping down to get them and then using them to unlock my door, pushing it open and motioning for me to step inside.

“My hero…”

I mumbled teasingly, noting a slight blush creep onto his cheeks.

“Can you make it up the stairs?”

He nodded towards the staircase leading up to my bedroom and I smiled at the thought of him having to help me up the stairs. Maybe he could tuck me into bed or stay and lend me some extra body heat since I was suddenly freezing. But that wasn’t the sort of thing friends did and that’s what we were, friends. Before I could get myself in any trouble, I shook my head no to his question.

“I’m all set Jay, thanks for bringing me home.”

I sent him a smile which he quickly returned.

“If you need anything, let me know. Text when you wake up so I know you’re still alive.”

He made his way back out my door as he spoke, grabbing the handle to pull it shut.

“Har har.”

I replied, chuckling at his concern. He shut my door and I kicked my shoes off before clambering up the steps and padding down the hall to my bedroom. Once inside, I didn’t even bother to change out of my work clothes before I was collapsing onto the mattress and pulling the covers over me.

***********

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I fell instantly asleep earlier, but I awoke in total darkness and to the sound of my phone buzzing in the distance. At some point I must have laid it on the bed beside me. I flipped it over, cringing at the assault of light it brought, but smiled when I saw Jay’s name across the screen.

“Hey..”

I answered, cringing again at the sound of my voice.

“You sound better.”

He lied, causing me to laugh slightly.

“I feel a little better. I totally should have taken you up on the medicine and soup offer though.”

I shifted in the bed, moving to sit up against my head board with the blankets still pulled over my lap.

“I can bring you some.”

He replied, bringing another smile to my face at his kind gesture.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll just order something or ravage the kitchen.”

He chuckled on the other end of the phone, almost sounding nervous when he spoke again.

“Too late, I already grabbed you some stuff.”

I smiled again, he really was the best friend a girl could have. Although, if I was being honest, I thought of him as more than just a friend.

“That’s awesome. Just ring the doorbell when you’re here and I’ll come let you in. I’m not sure if V’s home yet.”

I was totally out of touch and wasn’t even sure what time it was.

“She’s not, she went to Molly’s. Said she didn’t want to wake you and figured you could use the extra sleep.”

He answered confidently. I nodded into the empty room, thankful for my roommate's consideration. We ended our call and no sooner had I set my phone on the coffee table did someone ring my doorbell. I laughed out loud, realizing that Jay had been outside the entire time but hadn’t said anything and climbed out of bed, making my way downstairs. I pulled open my front door with a smile, receiving one from him in return as he held up two bags from the local grocery store. He stepped inside and I motioned for him to set the goods on the counter while I went upstairs to change into some sweatpants real quick. When I came back down I couldn’t help but be surprised at the spread on my counter. Jay had brought me two huge containers of soup, complete with my favorite crackers. A bag of cough drops and a bottle of cold medicine. A box of popsicles sat beside it all and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, he really had thought of everything. I pulled a bowl out of my cupboard and went to grab some of the soup while it was still hot, eagerly adding the crackers as I went. Jay watched from his spot against the other counter as I devoured the meal he had brought me. Once done with that, I moved over to the box of popsicles and pulled out one for each of us, earning an eye raise from him as he took the treat. I put the box in the freezer and then padded into the living room with Jay in tow.

“You don’t have to stay. I don’t want to get you sick.”

I offered, honestly hoping he wouldn’t leave.

“And miss the opportunity to eat popsicles and watch crappy tv? No way!”

He scoffed, eating the frozen treat. We fell into a silence as The Office theme song played across my living room. We watched a few episodes before I felt my exhaustion start to creep back in. My body also shivered slightly and I was sure I had a fever. Jay hopped up from the couch and went to get the cold medicine from my counter. I choked the dose down and then smiled when I saw him grab a blanket from my basket and lay it over me. I snuggled into the warm fabric, watching as Jay settled back onto his side of the couch. The blanket was warm but it still wasn’t enough to keep me from shivering. Jay noticed and gave me a hesitant look before he scooted over on the couch next to me. I didn’t say a word as he moved me forward and crawled into the space behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and pulling me back against him. He tucked the blanket around us and I melted into the heat he was providing. Any other time, neither one of us would have been this close, but right now I was thankful for his presence. I snuggled in closer to him, throwing all caution to the wind as the scent of his light cologne reached my nose. I could feel the medicine starting to take effect and between that and the exhaustion I couldn’t help but lose myself in the moment.

“My hero.”

I muttered again, repeating my earlier words as my eyes fluttered closed and my body finally stopped shivering. I let out a sigh as I let myself succumb to the sleep that I so desperately needed.

[spaceyantique]

let’s go dancing [paul x reader]

hullo! this is my first try at writing any fanfic so pls be gentle with feedback! I want to start writing more (especially for the beatles), so if you have any requests my inbox is open! also thanks to @kalypsichor for being wonderful and encouraging me to follow my little fanfic writer dreams love u.

okay here we go!

word count: 1078

pairing: paul mccartney x reader

summary: things get a bit heated when you make a connection with paul mccartney in a club one night. inspired by the club scene from A Hard Day’s Night. also inspired by paul’s bloody eyelashes.

warnings: smutty implications at the end, and like… three swear words

You really hadn’t expected to end up here.  

It had been a long day on top of a long week already, and all you’d really wanted was to slide into bed and not worry about your boss’s demands for the next two days. However, your roommate, Molly, had dragged you out for the night, claiming that you’ve got to live while you’re young, and wouldn’t it be nice to meet up with some friends? Hadn’t you just bought a new dress, and wasn’t this a perfect opportunity to show it off? So, begrudgingly, you and Molly braved the chilly streets, the wind snapping your coats.

The first pub involved a lot of small talk and even more beer. The second was slightly less subdued, but Molly still wasn’t satisfied with the amount of perceived fun you were having. After the third pub, you hardly felt the cold anymore as the pair of you stumbled into a club.

The dance floor was packed with people, so you skirted the side, trying to stir up some conversation. Your memory of the whole experience was, admittedly, rather hazy. The lights were dim and the alcohol had been flowing for quite some time. However, you certainly would have appreciated knowing how you ended up in a booth beside the dance floor, pressed up against Paul McCartney. 

He was warm against your side, you could tell that even through the heat from the alcohol. He was bickering good-naturedly with John. Across the table, George was cuddled up with a girl of his own. 

“A right Don Juan, he thinks he is!” Paul was saying, nodding towards Ringo, who was dancing like a fucking dork. 

“Come now, Paul!” John tutted. “At least he’s got the spirit.”

“I suppose that’s more than we can say for you,” Paul shot back and you giggled, completely swept off your feet by the inertia of the night. You couldn’t look away from his eyelashes, the curve of his nose, his freckles. You’d never understood the craze around the Fab Four, but you found yourself magnetized.

“I think he’s rather sweet,” you said, as Ringo had drifted away from his boogie and into a sort of jumping contest.

“Do you, now?” Paul replied softly, turning to look at you. His nose was only inches from yours. You laughed nervously again, unable to speak, heart fluttering in your chest. 

“Turn down the charm, Macca, you’ll frighten her off.” George had torn himself away from his girl and chided Paul with a smirk.

“Back off, Geo, I know what I’m doing,” Paul said with a cocky half-smile. He curled his fingers around your waist now, a mere layer away from bare skin, and you had to fight to focus on the conversation. 

Bastard.

“Don’t be too sure. Perhaps you’re not my type,” you said, fighting a smile. 

“And what is your type, birdie?” John cut in. He had commandeered the bowl of crisps a while ago and had nearly finished them off.

“Well, it’s certainly not the nosy sort,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. George snorted, John gasped in faux-offense and Paul smiled, a real smile this time. 

“I can’t say I’m much for the nosy sort either,” Paul announced. “Just today we were chased to ‘ell and back by crazed fans! Nearly lost us our Ringo. We had to duck in here to escape the mob.”

“Perhaps I should thank them, then.” You murmured quietly to Paul, leaning further into him.

“If tellin’ them about John’s wife didn’t shake them, I doubt anything will,” said George, grinning. 

“We’re doomed!” John bemoaned dramatically, collapsing back into his chair. You laughed, turning to see Paul smiling too. He wrapped his arm around you a bit tighter, and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“What do you say we go for a dance, hm?” You shivered at the feeling of his breath on your neck, and allowed him to lead you away from John and George at the table. 

Paul pulled you towards a black door at the back of the club and fumbled a bit with the handle.

“I thought we were going dancing?” 

You glanced back, catching Molly’s eye on the dance floor and waving. Her eyes went wide when they focused on Paul beside you, and she beamed and gave you a thumbs up.

“Well, ‘s a different kind of dancing.” Paul smirked again, looking back at you through those damn eyelashes. He finally got the door open, and you found yourself in a dimly lit hallway. The two of you went giggling past the toilets, his Chelsea boots and your heels clacking on the tile. He finally slowed, and you stumbled into him over your shoes and your alcohol.

“Paul,” you said, resting your hands on the front of his jacket. He smiled, his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“Paul,” you said again, more quietly. He was so close to you. You could feel your heart beating in your chest.

“Yes, love?” He leaned ever so slightly closer. You exhaled slowly, unable to tear your eyes from his. You rose up on your toes, and an eternity seemed to pass before your lips met his, and he was kissing you. 

Paul was kissing you, and his hands were everywhere, on your hips, trailing up your back, cupping your jaw, in your hair. He was so impossibly warm as he tugged you closer. His lips were so soft. You gripped onto his coat, and let his warmth consume you.

You pulled away first, gasping for air. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone.

“What a pretty thing I’ve got,” he murmured, cheeks flushed pink. 

“Careful, McCartney, you might get sweet on me,” you said breathlessly. You grabbed his lapels and kissed him again, harder this time. Paul’s hands flew down to your hips, and then you were crashing backwards into the wall. It was cold on your bare back, but you didn’t mind, not when he was so warm, when his hair was so soft. You tangled your fingers in it and tugged, and his breath hitched. He pinned you against the wall with his weight, and his fingers began to slide towards the hem of your dress.

When you broke apart for air, Paul’s eyes were dark, and his breathing was uneven. You could feel him pressing against you.

“Well, love, what d’you say we go do some more dancing at mine?

[hopewritcs]

another day, another party.

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

word count: 2.5k

request: “13, 65, 66 w billy? you’re the best!” ( “I dare you to kiss me.” / “We could always crash the party.” /  “I’m not sure you understand how much I care about you.” )

summary: billy and y/n have formed an unusual friendship.  both of them are popular, both of them like to go to parties, and they always wind up crashing at y/n’s house after.  but they’re most definitely just friends.  

notes: post s2 - pre s3

stranger things tag list: @thekidsofneibolt, @madhatterweasley, @shaykeijser, @rainy-bookish-days (if you wanna be added to any tag list, let me know!!)

Billy Hargrove wasn’t someone that Y/N’d expected to be friends with.  But, through mutual friends and several parties that year, they’d wound up thrown together on multiple occasions.  

Now, when they walked in the halls at the school Y/N and Billy were always together.  Naturally, everyone assumed that they were together.  It was something they would laugh about when they skipped class and sat in the back of the school under the bleachers.  

Which is exactly where they were now, a lit cigarette dangling from Billy’s lips as Y/N fumbled with the can of coke she’d brought with her from home.  She wasn’t much of a smoker like Billy, but she still hung around with him when he did.  They both needed to skip class every now and again.  

“So Carol told me about this party she and Tommy are throwing this weekend.”  Y/N huffed, taking a sip from her soda before tilting her head to look at Billy.  “Said it was only going to be a small group, which you know means she’s inviting half the school.  Everyone will be there, I’m sure, except people she and Tommy consider freaks.”  

It almost hurt her to say that.  She never bought into the bogus social hierarchy, calling people names and making fun of anyone for something they’ve done or not done.  It simply wasn’t who Y/N was.  It got her a lot of shit from her supposed friends too.  She’d been caught defending everyone from Jonathan Byers to Steve Harrington ever since she could remember.  While her friends teased her for it, told her to stick with them, she’d just rolled her eyes.  

“We could always crash the party.”  Billy said, exhaling as he pulled the cigarette from his lips and offered it to Y/N.  She declined with a wave of her hand, leaning back and letting the sun wash over her as best it could from under the bleachers.  

“We’re invited to the party, dumbass.”  Which was a problem for her.  Of course, she loved a good party.  Honestly, who didn’t?  What else was there to do in a small town except for get wasted on the weekends and hope to god that the police chief doesn’t show up and take you home kicking and screaming?  But as graduation got closer, it was one of the farthest things from her mind.  

“Then let’s have our own party.  The two of us.  We’ll pick up booze from town and go to yours.”  Billy suggested, sitting up to look at her better.  Y/N, in his time in Hawkins, had become the one single person he gave a shit about in the small town.  She didn’t judge him--didn’t judge anyone for that matter--and carried herself both with an air of how can i help and fuck off, a tangled mix that Billy was more than intrigued by.  Y/N had quickly become the person he relied on, his best friend.  “Your parents are out of town, right?”  

“Yeah, they’ve got my older sister’s parents weekend.  Or an award thing?  Who fucking knows.  They’re visiting her and leaving me here.”  Y/N didn’t sound bitter about it, because she wasn’t.  That was just the facts of the situation.  Would she have wanted to go to whatever it was?  Probably not.  But she would have liked the opportunity--she would have liked it if her parents had asked first.  

“So then it’s settled.  Friday after school we’ll rent a video and have our own party.  Who gives a shit about all of them anyway?”  Billy gestured toward the school wildly with one hand as he snubbed out his cigarette and jumped to a standing position, pulling Y/N off the ground too.  Her soda can spilled on the grass as he grabbed her from her seat.  The bell tolled in the distance.  “We can’t be late.”  Billy said, pointing to the school with a smirk on his lips.  

“Yes, because we can actually be late to leave school for the day, Hargrove.”  

“Just move it, Y/L/N.” 

Friday came by quickly, and the hunt for videos and snacks was upon Billy and Y/N.  Billy drove to the video rental, blasting the cassette in his car stereo and driving fast.  He was laughing.  He knew how much it drove Y/N insane when he drove like this.  

Her hands were grabbing on to her seat as she screamed at him to slow down.  This was just how it was when they drove.  Billy drove like he thought--wild, crazy, little care.  Y/N hated every minute of it, her stomach always flew into her throat when she was in his car.  But he didn’t exactly like being driven around, so they always wound up carpooling in his car ( which she’d mentioned that she could drive once and only got a look across Billy’s face to tell her never to mention it again ).  

“Shit Billy, you’re insane.  Where the hell did you learn to drive?”  It wasn’t so much an actual question, but the same thing she always cried out in the car with him.  “You’re gonna get us killed!”  The panic clear on her features, but she also knew that Billy was in fact in control of the car and nothing would happen.  She knew he liked getting a rise out of her, but she couldn’t help her gut reaction of pure terror.  

When they got out of the car, with her backpack slung over one shoulder she looked toward Billy with a glint in her eyes, “If you drive like that all the way to my house I will kick you out of your own damned car Hargrove!” 

Y/N meant it to be threatening, but Billy was smirking at her.  “Think you can handle that on your own?”  

“Don’t test me.  We’re this close to finding out.”  

He balked out laughter at that comment, and Y/N rolled her eyes--she was still holding her thumb and forefinger just far enough apart that it created any space, and the pair made their way into Family Video.  

Y/N brushed past Billy and immediately began searching for snacks.  Regretfully, since she’d picked the film last time they’d hung out, it was Billy’s turn and she was unsure what direction he would go in.  She’d made him watch A New Hope last time, with hopes they’d continue with the trilogy in another movie night.  Billy had grumbled about a lot of the film, but he hadn’t outright hated it like the time she’d made him sit through Peter Pan.  She knew all the words to songs and Billy had sat on the couch with a pillow over his head to drown out the sounds.  With Billy, he either picked something like Animal House or the Birds.  

After he’d made Y/N watch the horror film she’d jumped the next morning at the sound of a bird tapping against her window, to which he’d made fun of her for.  

A tap on her shoulder told her Billy was behind her and she turned to look at him with her arms full of food.  Her mouth fell open at the video in his hands and she asked, “The Shining?  Didn’t we already watch that one?”  she followed him towards the check out, putting all the candies she’d grabbed up with the video he put there.  

“No, I mentioned it last time but you made me watch that dumb movie with the girl who’s whole family forgot her birthday.  The redhead girl and the dweeby blonde.”  

“Sixteen Candles.  I was so excited when it came out on video!  And that’s Molly Ringwald.  I heard she’s got another movie coming out this year.  Maybe you’ll go see it with me when it comes to the movies?”  

Billy shrugged noncommittally as he fished in his pocket for some cash.  Y/N did the same and both of them paid for the stuff before heading back to the car.  

The first time the pair gone to Family Video to do this--rent a video and buy snacks--the cashier had scoffed and asked why Billy wasn’t paying for the whole thing like a guy should for his girl.  Which led to both Y/N and Billy leaning on the counter laughing when you made eye contact with each other.  Of course, now the comment wouldn’t have been so funny.  

Y/N ordered a pizza, got plates and dished it out before she had settled into the couch with some mixed concoction of what she found in the kitchen--some of the soda the family kept in the fridge and a bit of the whiskey her father preferred.  Billy had taken his alcohol straight, already downing one cup and on a refill.  

The pair were on the couch, each leaning on an armrest as the movie began.  “I bet you you’ll be over on this side of the couch before the first half is over.”  

“You have so little faith in me!”  Y/N faked a gasp, putting an amused smile on her face as she placed her hand on her neck, shaking her head.  

“You’re not denying it.”  

“What do I get if I win?” 

Billy thought for a moment, “I’ll let you pick the next two films.” She figured he must be confident in his film choice because Billy always found something to complain about her video picks.  “But that won’t happen,” he sounded overconfident and it made Y/N laugh as she rolled her eyes.  “So when I win, I dare you to kiss me.”  

Y/N choked on the bite of pizza she’d been chewing and she leaned forward with a wild look in her eyes.  There was no way in hell that Billy had an inkling that she had developed a crush on him, right?  This was just some joke, right.  So she relaxed her seat and looked at him, “That’s the worst bet you’ve ever made in your life Hargrove.  What’s the deal?  Got money riding on the schools are they or aren’t they bet?”  Y/N was teasing him, but she still worried about whatever it was that was really going through his mind.  

Billy shook his head.  He was so calm it was irritating Y/N.  “Nah.”  

“Then what, you just wanna kiss me or somethin?”  she choked on her laughter, shaking her head at him.  

Billy shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back toward the video playing.  Y/N pouted when she realized that meant she wasn’t going to be getting any answers out of him, so she sighed and turned her attention to the video and continued drinking, the pizza forgotten on her plate.  

Billy knew the movie was going to get under Y/N’s skin.  He knew how she felt about the horror films he’d picked in the past, so he was just waiting for the bet to be over with.  The last bet was during Lady and the Tramp where she’d bet him he would wind up complaining well before the baby was born.  Billy had said he wouldn’t.  The stakes were: if Billy won he could order what he wanted for both of them the next time they ordered from the diner, and if Y/N won she could bring one of her cassette’s into Billy’s car.  High stakes, since Billy hated listening to music he didn’t like, so he’d done his best to not complain.  He really had set against not complaining.  But in the first scene he’d gone and rolled his eyes, leaning on the couch, “But there’s no holes in the present!”  And Y/N had brought in her Cyndi Lauper tape into the camaro, which it now called home.  

Surprisingly, Y/N had made it through most of the movie without jumping over the middle of the couch.  Every time Billy looked over at her, her face was contorted in a look of concentration.  Which only made him roll his eyes, she was determined not to freak out and let him win the bet.  The look of determination in her eyes, even as he watched her flinch from what happened on the screen.  

They were more than half into the move at this point, but Y/N still hadn’t moved from her spot where she’d grounded herself.  She refused to move, except to look at Billy out of the corner of her eyes.  She’d caught him looking her way, but didn’t say anything.  Y/N was still trying to figure out what kind of shit Billy was trying to pull with the whole kiss dare.  

In the future when this movie night would be spoken about, it would be in terms of the bets they’d made and who won.  

When the credits were rolling, Y/N stood up and took the video out of the player and turned back to Billy with an angry tint in her eyes ( definitely partially fueled by the alcohol she’d consumed during the movie ), “So what the fuck was that dare for, Billy?”  

Billy stood up and chuckled at her.  He was playing it off as nothing more than just a simple dare to get under his friend’s skin.  But maybe it had meant more to him.  “Just wanted to see you squirm.”  He said, passing by her to go into the kitchen where he opened the fridge.  “I didn’t think it would affect you this much, Y/N.”  he’d called back to her.  

“I’m not sure you understand how much I care about you then.”  Y/N had meant to say it under her breath, but her voice carried from where she stood in her house to where Billy stood in the kitchen.  

“You care about me?”  Billy asked, suddenly appearing at her side and looking at her with eyes she couldn’t decipher.  

Y/N jumped and turned to face him, “You scared the shit out of me Hargrove.”  she nudged his arm with her fist, sloppily pushing against his chest.  

“You ignoring my question, Y/L/N?”

“What question?” 

Billy sighed and repeated his question from moments before, “You care about me?”  

Y/N’s eyes widened for a split second before she cleared her throat, “Of course I do!  You’re my best friend, Billy.  Of course I care about you.”  It didn’t sound so convincing to either of them.  Y/N was sure her voice had raised a surprising octave and Billy had kept his eyes on hers when she spoke.  

“Kiss me.”  he said quietly.  

“You lost the bet.”  Y/N pointed out with a soft chuckle.  

“This ain’t about the damn bet, Y/N.”  Billy harrumphed, putting a hand on her cheek and looking at her.  In that moment, she sobered up when he said, “Kiss me.”  

And she did.  

In the future, when they’d talk of the bet made that night: both of them would say they won.  

[sherlockxreader]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 1

Day 1: Holding Hands

Summary: You and Sherlock are forced to be friends after months of mutual hatred. Author: Maddy (@laterthantherabbit) Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x Reader, John x Reader (platonic), Mrs. Hudson Words: 2070 Warnings: None

---------------------------------------------------

“Sherlock?”

“...”

“Sherlock!”

“Hm?”

“Would you stop your moping and actually acknowledge John and I? You haven’t even moved since this morning!”

“...”

“Are you listening to me?”

“...” You heaved a loud sigh and glared at the man spread out on the sofa, as far from you as possible whilst still being in the room. You looked at John who just shrugged and continued reading the paper, bringing his tea up to his lips. You had finished yours and stood to wash out your cup which was when Sherlock spoke up, his irritation towards his afternoon having you in it clearly punctuated in his extremely childish tone.

“Don’t touch my experiments on your way out.” He turned towards the back of the sofa, waving his arm in a motion that said go away with as much annoyance as possible, and continued his sulk.

“Bite me Sherlock!” You rolled your eyes and continued to the kitchen.

Yours and Sherlock’s difficult and largely forced association with one another began on the day you moved into 221C. The move to the big city had not been as difficult as you anticipated considering your lack of possessions and the fact that John had selflessly helped you move box after box into the apartment. He introduced himself and Sherlock and began to talk to you about London and moving, forming a friendship swiftly. Sherlock however, hadn’t found you interesting at all and had deduced you immediately, hoping to send you off with his sociopathic tendencies. You weren’t fazed and instead, continued to talk to John, blatantly ignoring him for the rest of the move. Over the first few weeks of your living in the building, you became close friends with John, and had made friends with Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Greg. Even Mycroft fell for your charm and you two frequently went out for coffee together. Everyone loved you and you appeared to never leave 221B, always being present when anyone showed up and making everyone feel welcome. Sherlock hated it and took every opportunity to say so.

Not surprisingly, the glares and remarks exchanged between you and Sherlock were frequently noticed by Mrs. Hudson and John. They thought, however, that with the right push, you two would forget about your apparent loathing and hit it off, however every time the push was given, the stubbornness you both possessed prevented you two from cooperating. This had lead to today, where John and Mrs. Hudson’s final plan would begin.

John made an excuse to duck down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat as you returned from the kitchen, not that there was any need to as both you and Sherlock ignored him to carry on with your glaring and insulting one another. He knocked on the door to her flat just as she opened it. “Oh John! Is it time?”

“Yes. I think we’d better get it going before they rip each others throats out.”

“Oh John that was a bit morbid! Mind you they’ll probably want our throats by the time they figure it out.”

“Yes, probably. Where’s the biscuits?” John was handed a tea tray with the teapot and cups on it whilst Mrs. Hudson finished arranging the biscuits on the plate, placing it on the empty space on the tray before following John to the door.

“Will I come up with you?”

“I think that’d be a good idea. They’re more civil with you present.” John didn’t enjoy this plan but it was the final push he was willing to give you two. “Are you sure they’ll eat these?”

“Of course dear! They’re their favourites. It’s a shame they don’t realise their mutual love for gingernuts.”

“Yeah, they’ll get together over biscuits.” John snickered at the idea of you two forgetting your hatred over a packet of gingernuts before groaning as it evolved into an image of you two fighting to the death over them. “God I hope this works. You have the handcuffs?”

“Yes John. Up you go, I’ll need a soother for my head if they keep yelling.” Mrs. Hudson was right. As John ascended the stairs with her trailing behind, he realised that your bickering had become a yelling match. As he nudged open the door he saw the both of you standing at opposite ends of the room, throwing insults left and right. He changed his voice into the commanding tone of Captain John Watson so to grab your attentions quickly.

“Okay that’s enough!” Two heads spun towards him simultaneously. He would’ve laughed at the similarity of you two if it wouldn’t set you off again. “Stop with your arguing and have some tea with me and Mrs. Hudson.” At the mention of Mrs. Hudson’s name and her appearance behind John, you both became equally ashamed and muttered sorry’s as you sat back in the seats you had claimed before. Really, how could you two not notice your likeness was beyond John. He sighed and sat the tea tray on the coffee table, sitting in his chair whilst Mrs. Hudson sat near Sherlock.

“Are those gingernuts?” You asked as you poured the tea in three of the four cups, causing Sherlock to mutter to himself and glare at you once again as you smirked.

“Yes I picked them up earlier in the week.” Mrs. Hudson picked up her tea and nodded her thanks to you as you gave John his, turning away for a slight moment. When you turned back for your tea, you see that Sherlock had broken a biscuit in half and placed it into your cup, it becoming soggier with each second.

“Oh yeah, real mature Sherlock.” You picked up the decaying biscuit halves and popped them into your mouth as Sherlock ate his third biscuit, obviously trying to eat them all before you. Irritation bubbled to the surface of your skin. You tried to remain calm in front of Mrs. Hudson and, in place of yelling, your whispered to Sherlock harshly. “Sherlock I swear if you...” Your head began to feel light and you set your tea down, “... keep eating them I’m gonna… Oh I don’t feel well.” Your eyes felt heavy as you heard Sherlock mutter about Mrs. Hudson and drugs or something. You couldn’t really tell as everything became blurry and sleep overcame your body.

---------------------------------------------------

You woke a few hours later, the moon casting light through the open window, bathing everything in pale light. You groaned as you moved to recognise your surroundings, or you would if you could move your head, which was being cradled by something. As your senses sharpened you noticed that you had been moved into a bed after passing out. You tried to move your head to see what was holding you down, which was when you registered the body next to you and not just any body, but Sherlock, and not just Sherlock but Sherlock holding you while he slept. “Gah!” You scrambled away, or you tried to as your left hand refused to move with your body as it was being held by something, that something being Sherlock’s right hand. You also saw that your wrists were handcuffed together so there was no way of escaping Sherlock. “Great. When I get out of this, I’m going to kill John.”

Sherlock, having eaten more biscuits than you, was still blissfully unconscious, though still tightly holding your hand. You tried to pry his fingers away from yours but there just was no letting go. You gave up and laid back down on the bed, seeing as there was no way you could move anywhere whilst tethered to dead weight. As you settled again, Sherlock mumbled something and rolled away from you, taking your hand and body along with him. Not expecting the sudden move, you yelped and scrambled over him to stop your arm from hyperextending, falling off the bed and causing Sherlock to wake up groggily. Somehow through all the movement and falling, Sherlock still grasped your hand as he became more aware.

“Mmm... Y/N?” Sherlock’s voice was thick with sedatives and sleep, and his hair was messy, one side sticking up and the other slide flat on his face. His eyes blinked slowly and his eyebrows were pulled together in confusion. “Wha… Oh.” His eyes widened in realisation of what had happened to the two of you.

“Yep. John and Mrs. Hudson drugged us, handcuffed us and put us somewhere. I don’t know where though.”

“My room.”

“Huh?”

“We’re in my room.”

“This is your room?”

“Yes! Oh god my head is killing me.” He went to cradle his throbbing head with his hands when he realised he was still holding yours. He dropped it, and continued to massage his temples. When your hand followed his, he registered the handcuffs attaching you two together and groaned. “I’m going to kill John.”

“Not if I do first. Can’t you pick these open?”

He scoffed. “Of course I can pick these open. Let me just…” He reached over your head to fumble through the drawer of the bedside table, his hand coming back up with a pick for the lock. He turned back to work on getting you two out but instead, he groaned and dropped the pick, falling back onto the pillows, his free hand coming up to cover his eyes. “What the hell did they use?” he mumbled to himself.

“Are you okay?” You reached your hand out to move his arm yet when you did, he screwed his eyes shut tight and groaned again.

“Yes, it’s just my head keeps pounding and I can’t focus on the lock. Give me a second.” It was uncomfortable on the floor and you couldn’t go around the bed, so you opted to just climb over Sherlock to other side of the bed. “Ow! Stop moving you're making everything worse! What the hell are you doing anyway?” Sherlock’s words were muffled as he had placed a pillow on his face to block out light and sound.

“I am getting more comfortable as you have a headache and can’t get us out of this until it stops, which could take ages.” He tried to move the pillow to glare at you but even the little amount of light coming from the window made him shut his eyes again and whine. You were a sympathetic person and even though this was Sherlock, you felt bad that he was in pain because of your arguing. You didn’t know what to do to comfort him so you grabbed his handcuffed hand with yours and stroked the back of it with your thumb.

“What are you doing?” You could hardly understand him and laughed lightly at the confusion in his tone.

“I can’t go and get ibuprofen or anything to speed up your recovery and I don’t know what else to do to comfort you so...” You continued to stroke his hand in silence when he stilled for a while, not even moving with his breath. You stopped stroking his hand and went to shake him to make sure he was alive when he spoke again, quiet and the most sincere you had ever heard him.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed and rested your head against the headboard, resuming your movements with your thumb.

“Yeah, me too.” You thought about your relationship with Sherlock over the months and started to giggle a little bit, your giggling soon becoming louder until it was a full bodied laugh. “God! I can’t believe it took drugged biscuits to get us to get along!” You saw Sherlock lift the pillow off his face at your realisation, a genuine smile upon his face before it contorted in pain again. As your laughter died down, Sherlock managed to removed the handcuffs through his diminishing headache, staring at your hands the whole time. “Hey.” He pulled his eyes away from your hands and to your eyes where a mischievous glint was shining in the moonlight. “You want to go get revenge on John?” Your grin grew along with Sherlock’s as he pulled you off the bed and lead you to John’s room upstairs, your hands holding one another the whole time you handcuffed John to his bed and whilst you slept on the couch, waiting for morning to arrive.

[varietyofwords]

Addendum, Part Fifteen (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Addendum

Chapter: Lost (Part Fifteen)

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: Apologies for the severe delay in updating. I tried to get back into the mindset needed to finish this fic; I’m not sure if I’ve been successful. This is the second addendum (or, oneshot) to 3x14, “The Song of Greg William Yates”. This one is set after the episode and is an attempt to bridge the gap between what we saw between Linstead in 3x14 and Erin talking about love in 3x15.

The robotic voice chirps instructing her to take a left turn on yet another nonexistent road, and she lets out a frustrated groan as she presses her foot against the brake. Gravel crunches under the tires as the 300 slows to a painful crawl, and Erin’s eyes scan across the windshield trying to find this road the Garmin mounted on the dashboard keeps trying to send her down.

“Make a U-turn,” the electronic box chirps before changing its computerized mind about which why they should go. “Drive three hundred feet and turn right. Turn -- lost satellites.”

Another frustrated sigh passes over Erin’s lips as the Garmin repeats what it has been announcing since it told them to take the next exit off US-51 about an hour ago. As she glances out of the corner of her eye to see her partner sitting with his right arm pressed up against the passenger side door -- his knuckles pushed into the side of his face in an attempt to hold his head up -- and the paper map of Wisconsin Hank tossed at them on their way out of the bullpen this morning draped unopened across his left knee.

“I thought the Army taught you how to read a map,” She snaps shifting in her seat slightly so she can get a better look at him, so she can catch the way his eyebrows pitch upward even as his gaze remains fixated on the sea of brown grass and white snow bisected by a gravel road ahead of them.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” he sasses back without missing a beat, and she shakes her head as she glances from him to the Garmin mounted on the dash. He isn’t entirely wrong; she had told him to stop asking if she was okay, to stop hovering over her like she was some damsel in distress. And when it was all over, when Yates ended up with a bullet between the eyes, she may have told him something to that effect again.

Because she was willing to admit that she wasn’t sure how she was when he asked for the umpteenth time how she was doing, but she had taken Voight and Benson's eyes on them as out and had used their mantra of professionalism as a way to dismiss him and his concern from behind her desk so she could go home and crash. So she could look at the picture of Nadia pinned to the fridge and tell herself that it was over. That no other woman who have to go through the nightmare that Nadia did.

Yet when the bullpen empty, when she no longer felt Jay’s concerned gaze on her from the desk across the aisle because his paperwork was done and Voight had told the rest of the team to get out of there, Voight and Benson had run interception. Refused to let her go home until after she agreed to grab a drink at Molly’s at Benson, until after she sat on a bar stool and was too far down a glass of whisky and a bunch of advice to pay attention to the buzz of her cell phone with texts asking if she wanted to grab a drink, if she wanted to crash at his place, if she was okay.

Silence had begotten silence, apparently, because his eyes had remained downcast when she walked into the bullpen the next morning, when Voight came out of his office to tell her that she needed to follow protocol for a fatal police shooting. Needed to talk to one of the shrinks employed by the Ivory Tower before he could let her off desk duty. And while his heavy footsteps behind her as she exited the bullpen down the back entrance hadn’t exactly been silent, the words on his lips had died when she told him that she didn’t need to talk about it with a shrink or with Benson or with him because she was fine and it was over.

All he had done then was nod, and all he has done since is nod. Nodded when she returned to the bullpen this morning with her papers certifying she’d spoken about the shooting with someone down at the Ivory Tower. Nodded when Voight announced that Halstead and Lindsay were going to pick up a suspect being held by the one-man police department in some town outside of Wisconsin’s Flambeau River State Forest while the rest of the team chased another lead. Nodded when she snatched the keys to the 300 off his desk and announced she was driving as they exited the bullpen.

And, even now, she thinks she catches sight of a little nod as she throws the car in reverse, as she drapes her arm over the back of his seat and watches out the back window of the 300 while stopping on the accelerator. There is no way she could pull off a three-point turn on this narrow, gravel road. Not without dumping the 300 into a ditch or getting them stuck perpendicular to the flow of the nonexistent traffic. And so she settles on backing up until there is a place they can turn around, until --

The Chrysler jolts as the rear tires roll backwards, and the two of them are tossed upwards in their seats for the split second it takes for Erin’s foot to move from the accelerator to the break. Panic flitters across both of their faces, and Jay’s head tears away from where it rests of his fist as he twists around to glance out the rearview window. Twists again to glance at the side mirror in an attempt to see what she might have hit.

They had both gone through training in the academy about all the dangers a cop needs to look out for while driving -- the kids riding their bikes in the neighborhood, the cats that dart out into the road, the old ladies who forget to wear their hearing aids and don’t hear the sirens approaching an intersection -- and worst case scenarios rom Chicago plus those unique to Wisconsin -- the dairy cows crossing the country road, the eagles picking at road kill -- are rushing to the forefronts of their minds as Erin pulls on the parking break, as they both fumble to exit the car.

He reaches the back wheel first thanks to his long legs and possession of the passenger seat, and she barely has an opportunity to peer at him over the hood of the car before he’s shaking his head at her. Before his lips are tugged upward into a half-smile as he explains that she must have run over some sharp cheese curds or a really big mosquito because the 300 has a flat.

“I’ll call,” she starts to say, but the chirp of the Garmin announcing once again that it has lost satellite reception cuts her off. No satellite service means there isn’t likely to be any cell service, and she has no idea where the tell the tow truck to come get them anyways.

So, instead, she reaches into the car to shift the gear into park, cut the engine, flips on the hazard lights, and pop to the trunk. Pulls her beanie down over her head a bit more to ward off the February chill as she slams the front door shut and moves around to the back of the 300. Jay is already rooting around for the jack and the socket set, and he doesn’t bat an eye when she starts yanking out the spare tire.

“Should be enough to get us to Winter,” he announces leaning down to give the spare a squeeze before he steps around her and moves towards the flat tire. The assurance, the enunciated capitalization of a season gives her pause, and Erin abandons the tire up against the back bumper of the 300 so she can follow after him.

“Do you know where we are?” The incredulity seeps into her voice, twists her features, and heightens further when Jay merely nods in reply because they’ve been lost for the last hour listening to the stupid Garmin tell them to take a jumbled series of turns and he never said anything. Never told her if the right turn down that narrow dirt road was right; never told her if taking the exit off US-51 was even correct.

“You’ve known this whole time?” She questions as he crouches down next to the wrecked tire and begins wrenching on the first lug nut. He merely nods in reply choosing instead to focus on removing the lug nut, on getting them back on the road, but her frustration has bubbled over and her next few words are spat out at him. “You never said anything. You just let me listen to the stupid GPS and get us lost for the last hour.”

At that, his eyes snap up to look at her and there is an uncomfortable moment where her hardened gaze meets his soft one. Meets the same eyes that tried to inquire if she was okay a mere three days ago, that followed her nearly every move from the moment she returned from New York with a banged up knee and an unwavering determination to find Yates before he hurt anyone else.

“I’d never let you get lost on purpose,” he replies. The cold February wind nearly carries away his words, but they still manage to reach her ears. Probably would have anyways because she knows from the way he’s looking at her that he’d never let her get lost in Wisconsin or slip on a banana peel and fall down a hole. Knows from experience that he’d chase after her when she does.

And then it is her turn to nod, to remain silent as Jay states that he didn’t say anything because she was, actually, going the right way. Explains how the road they were headed down before she decided to throw the 300 in reverse cuts through the forest and loops back to reach Winter while the the road she was returning to runs around the state forest, but also leads to Winter.

“It’s about eleven miles from Winter to where we need to go,” Jay informs her, and then his lips twitch upward into a bit of a smile as he adds that the cabin -- the one his grandfather had moved by mules, the one he once said he wanted them both to retire to -- is another fifty miles or so up the road from Winter in the opposite direction.

“Guess I should have let you drive,” she acquiesces when Jay returns to working on the removing the lug nuts, and she braces herself for him to merely nod. Yet, this time, he shrugs and mouths off something about how she should have taken advantage of his razor-sharp mind back at the Illinois-Wisconsin border instead of telling him to shut up and turn on the GPS unit. Lets it go unsaid but understood that she should have let him talk.

“I know I don’t always listen to you,” she says after a moment, after he’s managed to remove the first two lug nuts and placed them into her hand for safekeeping, and she waits for the scoff or the roll of the eyes or the muttering about how that’s an understatement to come because it wouldn’t be an inaccurate reaction. Because she heard when he said her name and told her not to as she opened the mysterious box. Because she heard the concern in his voice when he asked about her knee. Because she knew she was chasing after Yates alone only a few weeks after promising him that she’d never go in without backup again.

But this -- her need to find Yates, to get Yates without or without backup -- was about Nadia and had nothing to do with their partnership. And she hopes he understands that. Thinks that maybe he does because he remains silent as he continues to work on removing the third lug nut from the wheel, as she as she tries to find a way to formulate the ‘but’ part of her statement without scaring him off. Without using words that she’s not sure she knows how to say to anyone but Camille Voight.

“I get it,” he adds after a long moment of her shifting from one foot to the next as she tries to keep her extremities warm while her mind races. “You loved -- love -- Nadia, and love makes us do crazy things.”

“Like go in without backup,” Erin offers up as an example, and she sighs when Jay nods his head. Finds herself copying his movement when he looks up at her and offers his own examples of badgering your girlfriend about how she’s doing when she just wants you to back off or driving by her apartment to make sure she’s okay because she hasn’t had time to change her locks yet.

“Or walking away after she tells you how she’s really doing because you know that means she needs space,” Erin interjects onto his list. “And then keeping quiet until she’s ready to talk to you.”

“Something like that,” he replies as he finishes removing the fourth lug nut, as he moves to drop it into her outstretched hand without looking up at her. And she only hesitates for a moment before she reaches out with her free hand -- the one empty of lug nuts -- to brush against his back, to get him to look up at her.

“I know I don’t always listen to you,” she repeats again, and her voice grows even more gravelly as she settles on the words that will follow the ‘but’ to that sentence. “But I do know that I’m glad I have you as my partner. Both professionally and unprofessionally.”

And, this time, the nod of Jay’s head doesn’t piss her off because it is accompanied with a smile that makes her own lips twist upward in reply.  Because it is accompanied with a surefooted ‘ditto’ and a long pause where his eyes linger on hers before he moves on to instructing her to grab the spare tire and bring it over.

“So,” she drawls out as she rolls the fat donut spare over to him, “if we’re so close to where we need to be, think we’ve got time for you to drive us up to the cabin for a bit?”

She offers the question with a smirk, but it melts right of her face when he replies with a quick ‘no’. And she wonders briefly if he’s letting the need for professionalism extend too far outside of Chicago or if the conversation they just had still hasn’t ended the silence between them. But then Jay glances up at her -- the serious look on his face betrayed by the look in his eyes -- and says, “If I take you to the cabin in the middle of winter -- no bald eagles, no fish in the river, and snow up to the windowsills-- I’ll never get you up there again.”

[hnm22705]

Amateur Hour at Baker Street

This wonderful fanfic is the brainchild of myself and my dearest @pinkpenguin763. It came about one night when we were joking about things that would be more plausible than The Final Problem, and, well, after a long collective effort, many notes on Google Docs, and a few questionable Google searches, this is what happened. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it :)

----------

Amateur Hour at Baker Street

John never did this sort of thing.

Well, he DID do this sort of thing, just not this particular KIND of this sort of thing.

But he was alone, and horny, and...did it REALLY matter what kind of porn he watched?

It's not like he could just pack up Rosie and pop over to the adult film store, rent “Internal Cumbustion” and carry on his merry way - well, at least not without getting some VERY judgemental looks, and he really didn't need any more attention brought to him. He didn't even want to imagine what the press would say if they got wind.

He also didn't really have the luxury of asking himself WHY there was a DVD labelled “Gay Porn? Research” at Baker Street (not like it belonged to Sherlock, at least for any kind of recreational use - just transport and all that) - and he also didn't really want to look too closely at how intriguing it was to him that there WAS gay porn at Baker Street either.

Before he could change his mind, he inserted the DVD and leaned back on his bed.

The screen flickered to life with a sort of static that reminded John eerily of Mary's posthumous videos. He flinched, grabbing for the remote, about to lose his nerve, when the video's subject came into focus.

The man on the screen was partially dressed, in suit slacks and wingtip shoes, with a deep blue suit shirt he was in the process of slowly unbuttoning.

Pale skin almost seemed to glow between the sides of the shirt, and John found himself, utterly against his will, envisioning Sherlock instead, wearing his deep purple dress shirt, long fingers playing over the buttons flush against his chest.

However, John could tell, even with the man's face hidden, that this was decidedly not Sherlock - he seemed a bit shorter, broader around the shoulders, and not nearly as impossibly thin.

Really, this was a good thing - he hadn't secretly been hoping it was his flat mate - that would be an invasion of privacy - and watching a questionable porno video found on a shelf at Baker Street was a completely normal thing to do, of course.

“You were serious, you're actually recording me?” The voice was muffled, the man's head still out of view, and John could just barely make out the words.

The man slipped open the bottom button of his dark blue shirt, then moved to work open the buttons at his sleeves, uncovering more of his pale chest.

John glanced at his door, ensuring once more that is was firmly closed, and began to unbutton his own shirt. Rosie had just gone down for a nap downstairs, and Sherlock was at the morgue with Molly - plenty of time to really enjoy himself.

The angle changed a bit, and the camera man’s hand came into view as he reached out and gently caressed the sparse curls that covered his lover’s chest and ran down to his navel.

John ran his hand over his own chest. It had been so long since he’d been touched like that, and even longer since he'd felt  another body under his hands - though the body he was currently imagining was smooth, almost hairless, and painfully thin.

“Come on, put on a show for me?” the cameraman said roughly as he pushed the other man’s shirt off his shoulders and stepped back.

“If that’s what you’d like.” The man slipped his shirt the rest of the way off, seeming to pause for a moment, about to fold it, before instead letting it fall to the floor. He toed off his shoes, running his hands down his sides to stop at his hips, palming his erection, which was becoming quite obvious in his well tailored trousers.

John was getting pretty hard himself, though it was much less obvious in his off the rack trousers.

The man on the screen slipped his hands into the waistband of his trousers, inching them deliberately down his hips and thighs, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them. He gave his growing hard on a firm stroke through his aqua Calvin Kleins.

John unzipped his trousers, gripping himself through his much less posh pants. He’d never seen a need for an intricately indexed drawer full of Hugo Boss and Giorgio Armani pants (unlike his flat mate), but was beginning to see their appeal.

The man on screen stood awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to do next. A large hand came into view from behind the camera, and ran down the chest of the other man, following the trail of hair and skirting across the prominent bulge.

“You're liking this, I can tell. You look...amazing. What are you going to do for me next?”

The camera man's voice was even rougher with need than before, and the deep timbre went straight to John's cock straining against his own pants. What he'd give to hear a deep, rough voice saying things like that (one voice in particular, of which the thought of made John that much harder). He may not be gay, but he never said he didn't appreciate a good looking man if the opportunity arose. And god, what he would do to a certain man if there was even a sliver of a chance that anything would ever happen.

“I thought that was your part in all this - taking control, telling me what you want.” The on screen man's voice was more than a little breathless, causing the camera man to groan.

“Oh, I love it when you tell me to take control - so different from usual. Come on, show me what you've got.” The cameraman’s voice had taken on urgency, almost frustrated – or maybe John was just projecting.

“Patience,” the man on screen said, a hint of a smile in his voice. He pushed his fingertips under his waistband, and John found himself following suit, reaching and slowly pulling down, inch by inch, as he watched the man on screen do the same. John’s breathing was faster now, and he found himself closing his eyes in relief as the final inch of restraining cloth was pushed down and thrown aside, freeing his aching erection at last. If he hadn’t been burning with need, he would have been embarrassed at how close he already was to climax.

Vaguely, he heard the porno still playing in the background, but his eyes remained closed as he gave himself a firm pull, lost in his head, imaging a tall, curly haired man, long elegant fingers wrapped around him. He wanted to savour the fantasy playing out in his mind, but, he knew it wouldn’t be long – he only had so much self-control.

John fumbled in his night stand, grabbing his tube of lube and squirting a generous amount in his hand, slathering it on and increasing his rhythm, the sounds of the porno fueling his desire. He was so close, so close, so –

“Oh god, Mycroft, you’re –“

John’s eyes flew open, his desire suddenly extinguished as if he’d been doused in ice water. Had he just heard –

Suddenly, the door opened. “John, Rosie seems to have –“ Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks, eyes huge and getting bigger as he took in the scene before him – John, mostly naked, cock in hand, porno playing on the small television.

Neither man moved for what felt like an eternity, huge eyes locked across the room, the only sounds the amorous moaning coming from the video, until finally, Sherlock awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “So…I see you found my brother’s porno.”

That was all it took – John snapped into motion, grabbing for the closest object he could find and hurling it at Sherlock’s head and yelling, “Don’t you bloody know how to KNOCK!?”

To his further mortification, it seemed the closest object had been his pants, which, John saw, before the door slammed shut, were now draped over Sherlock’s head where they’d landed.

He grabbed for the remote, unfortunately not only turning the volume up in the process, but also causing himself to pitch face first off the bed onto the floor.

He could hear the men on the tape snogging, loud smacking kisses and grunts, as he scuttled across the floor on his hands and knees towards the DVD player, finally managing to shut the damn thing off – but not before he saw a familiar face attached to a very bare ass. Apparently, not only had he been wanking to Sherlock’s brother, but also to the DI of Scotland Yard (and John’s drinking buddy), Greg Lestrade.

John lay on the floor, pants-less, shirt hanging open, breathing hard, and thought to himself that he may never get an erection ever again.

****

Shortly after the most embarrassing moment of John’s life, he heard the front door open and slam shut – Sherlock had fled the flat. He hauled himself up off the ground, putting on a fresh pair of pants (he would probably burn the ones that had landed on Sherlock, if he ever found them) and a jumper and jeans, making his way downstairs to check on his daughter, only to find that she wasn’t there. Sherlock, even in his rush, had remembered that Mrs. Hudson was taking her for the night – her overnight bag and favorite toy were also missing, and he couldn’t imagine Sherlock had decided to take her to a murder scene (even after what he had witnessed earlier).

He told himself he was going to just grab a cup of tea and something to eat, then hide for the rest of the night. However, just as he was about to bolt back upstairs, he found himself face to face with Sherlock, who had just arrived back home – ACTUALLY face to face, as in he almost ran face first into the consulting detective, who grabbed his arms in reaction to impact, holding him steady, unfortunately giving John absolutely nothing else to do but meet the other man’s eyes.

“Shit. Sorry. I – shit,” John sputtered, kicking himself inside at his complete and utter lack of any kind of higher thought process at that point in time.

Surprisingly, Sherlock seemed just as much at a loss for words as John. The man simply stared at him with wide deer-caught-in-headlights eyes and just stood there, holding on to his arms.

“Listen, Sherlock, about earlier –“

“John, I just have to say – “

Both men stopped, having started talking at the same time. They tried once more, doing the same thing again, then Sherlock let go of John and stepped back, inclining his head to indicate John could speak first – which was disturbing in itself, as John couldn’t ever recall a time that Sherlock had let him speak first.

“Okay, ah – about earlier. Upstairs, with the…porno, and –“ John shifted, putting his hands in his pockets, then removing them again, hands opening and closing against his will.

“It’s perfectly natural for a healthy male to indulge in masturbation, John, it’s not like it’s a secret. In fact, I know you’re one to indulge quite frequently, especially in the mornings during your shower – “

“Stop. Stop!” John waved his hands, grimacing and starting to turn red. “That’s not – not what I’m trying to – I don’t need to hear your…observations about my masturbatory habits. Jesus.” He took a deep breath, about to speak again, but Sherlock continued on, almost nervously.

“I’m simply trying to let you know it’s all fine. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it – though I’d prefer it weren’t to my brother, but I suppose I should have known, what with how the two of you go on with each other…and he’s…fit? I guess? Though if you’d seen him before he started obsessively exercising, well –“

“No, Sherlock, I – Jesus Christ, no. I don’t have a hard on for your brother –“

 “Well, actually, you did. Earlier, I mean. Quite an impressive one actually – or was it for Graham? He is…ruggedly handsome, especially for his age, though I wouldn’t have pegged you for being into manly types. Though you were in the army, so maybe not so far fetched –“

 “Oh my god, stop! Stop. Just – stop. Trying to figure out who I want to…peg. The porno, it was an accident, I just saw “porn” and it’s been awhile, and dear Lord it just went…wrong. Very, very wrong. What with your brother, and GREG, and you WALKING IN –“

 “Rosie woke up and was asking for you. If I’d known you were having a wank to my brother’s amateur porn, clearly I wouldn’t have interrupted you –“

 “I didn’t know it was your brother!! I was minding my own business, having myself a fantastic fantasy about someone completely else and suddenly, mid stroke, your brother’s name comes up, and then – and then!! Then you’re suddenly there, in the room, not just in my head anymore, and –“ John stopped suddenly, realizing what he had just said.

 Sherlock was doing the deer-in-the-headlights stare again, and John cursed himself – of course, Sherlock, the great bloody genius, had realized what he had just accidentally revealed. He opened his mouth a couple times, before he finally managed, “John, I –“

 “Shit. Just – pretend I didn’t say that. Don’t…say anything,” John muttered and whirled around to hightail it back upstairs, only to feel Sherlock’s hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He flinched, slowly turning back around, fearing what he would see, and met Sherlock’s eyes.

 They stood for a moment, a mirror of how they’d been upstairs when Sherlock had walked in (minus the part where he was naked and Sherlock looked like he had been hit by a bus), but then Sherlock was moving forward, pulling John in close, leaning down to meet John’s lips ever so softly, hesitant, as if asking permission.

 Now John was the one who looked like the proverbial deer - eyes wide, frozen in place. It didn’t last long, however – he found himself grabbing on to the other man, crushing the lean body to his smaller frame, deepening the kiss into something much, much less delicate – and suddenly it was over, Sherlock pulling back and meeting John’s eyes once more. John was breathing hard again, and he saw the other man’s eyes flick down and then back up to meet his once more. Sherlock smiled slyly, and said, deep voice rough, “If you need help with that – you know where to find me.” He winked, sauntering away towards his room, but paused and turned around right before he went through the door to say, “Unless you’d rather go back upstairs to finish your video instead?”

 “Oh, you bastard,” John said with a smile, and Sherlock laughed as he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving the door open in invitation.

 It took John approximately two seconds before he hustled after the other man, slipping into the room and closing the door (firmly) behind him – and locking it for good measure. Perhaps he’d been wrong about never having an erection ever again – and by god, he intended to use it.

[viralhottopics]

29 People Describe What Sex With A Trans Person Feels Like

Found on AskReddit.

1. It’s basically like being with a cis dude with a very small dick.

My ex is a pre-bottom surgery trans man.

As the top commenter said, it’s basically like being with a cis dude with a very small dick. He has been on hormones for 8 years so his growth down there was pretty developed. We were able to have penetrative sex (I’m a woman, btw). Also he was pretty skilled in the whole sexual department, and I put that down to him being a woman before so he knew how to work female genitalia in a way that a cis man couldn’t.

Apart from the physical side, the emotional side can be pretty intense. A lot of pre-surgery trans people have issues around dysphoria during sex, and this stopped sex dead in its tracks a few times for us. He did not like being penetrated at all, which I didn’t realize at first because he was too shy to tell me. That was a bit awkward, and it made me feel like shit afterward.

Overall, even though he had female genitals, it was pretty much just like being with a cis guy physically. 10/10, would sleep with a trans dude again.

2. It is different because of different hardware, but still quite enjoyable.

I am in a relationship with a pre-op MtF girl. It is different because of different hardware, but still quite enjoyable. She cums from anal quite a bit, and I enjoy it as well. Mechanically, it would be very much like regular anal, but the emotional component and feelings behind it all is like any other relationship.

3. She was incredibly tight and we needed a lot of lube. But it was pretty great.

I was FWB with a woman who I actually started hooking up with pre-trans I guess? She had a penis when we met and we did everything anally for a few months. She finally got herself fixed and she was the happiest I’ve ever seen someone be in my whole life, it was a pretty nice experience. She took a few months (maybe close to a year) to recover. When we went to hook up again, she just had a vagina. It looked pretty normal, pretty cute. She was incredibly tight and we needed a lot of lube. But it was pretty great.

Honestly, it felt nice to look HR in the eyes while we fucked, not being able to do that totally removed a lot of the connection for me.

4. I have never been with a woman with such vaginal strength.

I’ve been seeing a guy (FTM) for over a year now. I am a bi guy(CIS).

He very much looks and smells like a guy. Very muscular as well.

So sex-wise for me, everything has been better. I have never been with a woman with such vaginal strength. Would be scary if it wasn’t such an awesome feeling. His natural lube does seem to be different. The same, but with a little more stickiness, then the few women I’ve had un-condomed sex with. Not that I’ve had enough to know how they all are.

I like to think the sex has been great because we are clicking well, not because of our genders. Kissing has been the biggest deal. I just love holding him and kissing him.

5. The lack of penis didn’t bother me, but the presence of a vagina was a bit startling.

It threw me off a bit, the lack of penis didn’t bother me, but the presence of a vagina was a bit startling. It was hard to get the sheer presence of it out of my mind for some reason. Super-hot and nice guy though. I definitely enjoyed myself, it was just a bit disarming, but not much was actually different (we mostly did anal, but I herp derped up in his snatch for a bit and it felt pretty good, but I was unaccustomed to the angles of view that vaginal sex leads to, it was novel and a bit strange).

6. The only issue was, she had pubic hair growing inside of her vagina.

Yes, I am a bi guy. I hooked up with a MtF, I just liked her style. She had had a lot of surgery, including a neo vagina. I wanted to try it. I’ll call her Molly, cuz that’s what she liked to do. I met her at a fetish club. She was hot, and she didn’t pass. There’s something that turns me on about non-passing MtF’s, it’s hard to explain. But the point is: I didnt expect her to pass, and she wasn’t trying to fool me. The neo-vagina didn’t pass either, but it sure did feel good. I would be down to do it again, if Molly hadn’t been so into drug culture, I would have. The only issue was, she had pubic hair growing inside of her vagina. Thick, coarse ones. I asked her about it, and it has something to do with the neo-vagina being constructed from testicle skin. There are pictures of this online. Anyway, I could feel the hair through the condom even, and I was worried about these vaginal pubic hairs causing condom breakage. And diseases, Molly was a lolly but she got around.

7. It was tight, it was soft, it was warm, it was very wet (because we used lube!), and it was sex with someone I was already mentally in love with.

I had a year+ relationship with a MtF post-op. We went from chatting at a bar, to playing (at a BDSM club), to fucking, in about a month and a half. Not entirely out of the norm I’d guess.

She said she’d started on hormones pretty late but also had a very delayed puberty so that sort of evened out, and then went to Thailand at 29. We met about 4 years after she had surgery. All that to say that she had slim hips, a slim bone structure, pretty much nothing pointed to born male appears female. Her vagina looked like a vagina. There’s enough variety in the world that I didn’t inspect it vigorously to determine how it came about. She had some small breasts that weren’t implants. Basically, I didn’t know.

Sex was great. We needed lube, but the only uncommon thing about that for me in many cases is that we needed it right at the start instead of first sometime in the middle. It was tight, it was soft, it was warm, it was very wet (because we used lube!), and it was sex with someone I was already mentally in love with. Also breasts. And my hand around her throat. A good time.

She told me she was trans, in a public place, a little while later. She was worried about what sort of reaction I might have to learning that. The whole you tricked me into fucking a dude now I’m going to kill you thing. But I just didn’t care. This is actually something I’ve thought about a lot since, and I wish she had told me ahead of time. I understand why she didn’t but it’s still something she kept me from having informed consent about. Since I didn’t care to begin with I haven’t stayed too worried about it.

Our relationship went really strongly for a bit over a year and we ended up breaking up over personality meshing issues. A regular old breakup. But even by the end the sex was still great.

8. The surgical scar from the vulva up was a distraction, as was the unusual hip-to-waist ratio.

The first minute was good, after that it was uncomfortable.

I’m a guy. This was at a sex club. I walked in on her (male-to-female) sitting on a bed with a younger guy who clearly couldn’t perform for whatever reason. So she was horny, I was horny, and we got it on immediately.

The room was dark, and she had kind of a strong chin, but I didn’t really think about it. She was on top, and held my arms down. I thought, Man, she’s strong. And not merely strong for a woman (of her size.)

But the vagina felt great. Naturally lubricated, better than those of some natural women I’ve been inside. However, the surgical scar from the vulva up was a distraction, as was the unusual hip-to-waist ratio.

My experience is probably unusual in that I had sex with her while getting acquainted. I don’t know whether the onus was on her to tell me she used to be a dude, or on me to notice it before plunging in. Either way, it wasn’t awful. I might repeat if I knew what to expect going in.

9. His fluids taste like cum and his parts all have a man’s smell and they’re all covered in hair.

My partner and I are both trans. I’m MtF and he’s FtM.

Most of it is about as different as sex is with any other partner. Everyone has their likes and dislikes, and you kind of fumble your way around to figuring out what works, and then do some more of that. He’s obsessed with my breasts and mauls them at every opportunity, when he nuzzles my neck or kisses me his beard scratches me up. He smells like a man, I smell like a woman. My skin is soft and his is hairy.

There’s lots of kissing and groping and laughing and talking and dreaming, and then our pants come off.

His dick is about the size of a pinky finger from the second knuckle. I can give him head just like any other guy, and he love it. His fluids taste like cum and his parts all have a man’s smell and they’re all covered in hair.

I still have a functioning strapless that gets joyfully ignored. It no longer produces emissions and I have multiple orgasms. I particularly enjoy having things put in my inguinal canal. It’s called muffing, and it feels really nice. It hits all of the important nerves and has enough space to fit a thumb. If you have testicles and aren’t on HRT, your testicles might get in the way.

Remember my guy’s size? Yup. It fits. Perfectly.

So yeah, it’s pretty normal, just a little different, and the pillow talk is way more interesting.

10. We both went from being horny and wanting something inside of us to wanting to grind on things instead.

My partner and I are both trans, and both Female to Male. Neither of us have bottom surgery-but that is more due to the lack of good surgeons/surgeries in my area than a lack of desire for it.

Hormones still do a lot to the clitoris. I think the thing that surprised us both was how quickly our clits grew. My partner’s does not stay tucked up in the skin anymore, and it freely hangs down a bit. I can actually give them head-like giving a blowjob to a very tiny penis.

Other than that, body smells are now a thing. Even after having a shower just that day, the body smells a lot different now than it did before. And everything is very hairy.

We’re both about 8 months into hormones right now, so I’m sure we still have a long way to go as far as changes go.

In comparison to a cis dudethe dick is just much smaller. Also, we both went from being horny and wanting something inside of us to wanting to grind on things instead. Humping makes so much more sense now, and it’s become so much more fun to just grind. Sometimes we prefer that to trying to even bother with penetration.

11. Having sex with a mtf transsexual was like having the best of both worlds: the looks and touch of a female but with a little surprise down below.

I (male) have had sex with a mtf escort. I was in Australia and had always been interested so I decided why not. Besides the fact that she was an escort it was actually a pretty enjoyable experience. Besides having a deeper voice and being a little taller than most females, she did not look any different than any other cis female. As for the sex, besides having a penis, it was surprisingly similar to sex with a cis female. It was actually a great experience because I was allowed to experiment with a few fantasies while still being turned on by her appearances. I don’t consider myself gay and would probably never have sex with a male but having sex with a mtf transsexual was like having the best of both worlds: the looks and touch of a female but with a little surprise down below

12. She has small A-cups and smells like a girl.

Im currently dating a trans woman. Its great. She hasn’t had bottom surgery because from what the doctors have told her there is only a 60% chance she will be able to achieve orgasm if she does. Her testes have withdrawn back up into her body and her penis has gotten smaller. She doesnt ejaculate. So basically she has a large clit and no vagina. There are the usual issues with anal penetration but being bisexual myself I know how to navigate these issues.

She has small A-cups and smells like a girl. She acts like the woman that she is. I really enjoy spending time with her, even out of the bedroom.

13. Her vagina was very much like any other woman’s though the labia were a bit smaller, in her case, and she had a less depth.

My (ex) girlfriend had transitioned six years before I met her, and completed her sexual reassignment surgery (SRS) two years prior. Before surgery the effects of estrogen combined with androgen (male hormone) blockers had transformed her breasts, hips, skin and hair and greatly affected her sex life, as well. Most MtF women eventually lose the function of their penis due to hormone treatments, and for many this is not a problem. Receiving penetrative anal sex became much more pleasurable after hormones for my gf, and she could orgasm that way alone. I am told this is a common side effect, though not every woman experiences hormone treatments the same way.

After SRS, my gf had an extended period of recovery where she slowly regained sexual feeling and the ability to enjoy vaginal sex. She told me it was like a training period where her body reconnected with her new vagina both physically and mentally. From my perspective having sex with her two year after the surgery, her vagina was very much like any other woman’s though the labia were a bit smaller, in her case, and she had a less depth. Genetic women can accommodate babies, after all, and their vaginas are remarkably stretchy.

Her vagina did not lubricate naturally and required plenty of lube for sex, but I am told that new SRS procedures can now use the body’s own secretion-producing tissue to simulate vaginal lubricant during arousal. All in all, she was very pleased and fulfilled that her body was now fully female in form and function and that translated into hot sex. When we were dating, she was coming very close (pun intended) to achieving orgasm from vaginal sex and I was of course eager to help her on that journey.

14. Honestly it was pretty hot.

A friend of mine is FTM and we sort of hooked up at a party. Honestly it was pretty hot. I’m male myself but I’ve never really cared about my partners gender or at least it doesn’t play much into whether or not I’m sexually interested in them. He preferred that I didn’t penetrate him so we just sort of grinded, made out, and rubbed each other off. I’d do it again.

15. Sex seems to work best as a tender, sensual affair with lots of nipple stimulation.

MTF here, plus I have a MTF partner. Neither of us have had surgery, though both of us experience significant dysphoria about our genitals. Money is the most significant hurdle to getting an orchiectomy or vaginoplasty.

Sex is difficult. We both are extra sensitive to each other’s needs; we have sex drives and enjoy the pleasure of the penis being stimulated while simultaneously getting sort of grossed out with our own body. Recently she was stimulating me, and I started crying, so sex stopped and she comforted me in my dysphoria. We talk a LOT about the dysphoria and any frustration we have. Sex seems to work best as a tender, sensual affair with lots of nipple stimulation. My own issues are exacerbated by a lot of guilt over sexuality that comes from growing up as a fundamental Christian.

16. I’m a whore, so the penis didn’t stop me from initiating sex after the first date.

Some background info: I am a cis woman, married to a mtf woman. I had never dated a trans person prior to her. I was a gold star lesbian. When we started dating, I knew she was trans because she stated so in her dating profile. We actually met in the real world but I had seen her profile and remembered her from it. The night we met, after it was obvious we hit it off, she disclosed her pre-op status. As I already knew, I was able to avoid any look of surprise, no matter how momentary. This, I found out, really put her at ease. Much respect to anyone that has something like this to disclose during early dating. It must be terrifying. Anyway, I’m a whore, so the penis didn’t stop me from initiating sex after the first date. I did have to admit I had no idea how to work with a penis, but we are both very open sexually, so we were able to talk through it (and our kinks) in a fluid manner. The sex was great. Standard p in v stuff, oral (both ways), some choking. You know, normal. Though she needed a lot of stimulation to orgasm, and it didn’t always happen. I remember being extremely impressed that first time that she was so accepting of her current situation (no bottom or top surgery, and small breasts from hormones). She ended up getting her SRS (Satterwhite) about two years into our relationship, after we got engaged. The results look good, and she is fully orgasmic. She’s had issues with healing, though, which are mostly from her not doing what she is supposed to do for upkeep. It’s killed our sex life, and has led to a lot of resentment on her end. Some is mental issues I’m battling with, some is my not wanting to deal (during sex) with the occasional blood and malodorous discharge that comes from her not healing a surgical site properly. It’s just not arousing at all. She’s working right now with her OB to properly heal the neo-vagina, so I’m hopeful.

17. Couldn’t tell a difference.

I did in July or so from a OKCupid date/hookup. Four times in about a 24-hour period. I actually didn’t know til after though but I did think it was strange when she asked for lube like right away. I’ve had girls ask for lube before but usually its ones that are older or farther into relationship.

Anyways couldn’t tell a difference. A friend of mine went to high school with her when she still had a dick. She only went part of Freshman year then was home schooled. I thought my friend was bullshitting me but scanned the year book pic and told me to search her name on Topix and people talk about her having the surgery done. She also had very small boobs. Usually the voice is a red flag in videos but hers sounded feminine. She was only 20 so must have had it done early or started hormones early.

I didn’t see her again; she was a bit of a nutcase and clingy. Sex was good though. I already had decided not to meet up with her anymore before I found out about the sex change. I probably would have still hooked up with her if she told me but feel not telling me was uncool so just reaffirmed not talking to her anymore.

18. We have mostly vaginal sex, but it feels more like sleeping with a guy, like with a good bro.

Background: Im a Bi cis-gender male, my partner is a trans man (ftm). I met him over summer this year and he disclosed from the beginning that he was trans. The majority of my sexual experiences have been with female partners. I came out as bi to my family because of him.

We talked through text and phone calls before we met in person and he had told me about himself including sexuality and gender (gay trans man for reference.) The way he described himself I would have guessed his feminine features might be more apparent, and that he may have trouble with being misgendered. To my surprise upon first meeting him, besides the lack of beard, that made him look a little younger than his age, he seemed like any other gay guy. We hit it off after meeting and started dating.

As for sex, since the options for bottom surgery arent that great, he isnt planning on it and has come to terms with that. Before we started dating, I thought I had a high sex drive, but since we started living together I just cant keep up. Weve talked about it a lot and I understand his needs (for the most part) and he understands my libido isnt quite is high as his.

So, with that said, I feel like our sex is far closer to gay sex and is fundamentally different in practice than the sex with all of my previous female partners. Oral sex is easier due to his clit being closer to a small penis, sensations like sucking, nibbling, more and harder pressure tend to be much more pleasurable. Even during vaginal intercourse, it feels much more like topping a guy, hair/stubble rub against me, his low moans are in a stark contrast to the female tone. We have mostly vaginal sex, but it feels more like sleeping with a guy, like with a good bro. There are only subtleties of his previous identity. I dont plan on sharing those because I would rather be the only one who knows. Otherwise he is rather masculine, slightly timid face, normal proportions for his shorter stature, most of the time he wears briefs and binds. So, looking at him on a typical day at school/work most people easily see a male. He has a normal male odor and uses masculine deodorant and wash. He began shaving his genitals at my request, but hes hairy in the rest of the normal places for a guy.

As our relationship is young, we havent ventured into too many unknowns, but plans for the future include pegging because, well, I cant have all the fun. Thats one of the perks of a relationship with a trans person, because conversations about sexuality tend to come up early and more often. Kinks and sexual play feel more comfortable to discuss. This level of communication in my experience has been difficult to work towards in my prior relationships where sexuality wasnt brought up due to the status quo.

19. The clits engorge considerably, and are a ton of fun to play with, closer to a blowjob than cunnilingus.

Bisexual man here, I’ve dated/had sex with two pre-op transmen on T, one who started hormones while we were dating.

The clits engorge considerably, and are a ton of fun to play with, closer to a blowjob than cunnilingus.

Testosterone seems to interfere with vaginal wetness, so lube is important if he’s interested in that, and seemed to make him interested in sex more frequently but for a shorter session.

20. Such a great and unexpected experience, a whole different kind of sexy!

I had an awesome experience with a MtF girl, who had been on hormones for a while but still pre-op. Already had bigger boobs than me but still rather well-endowed downstairs. I am bisexual so am very much into both guys and girls anyway, but it was such a great and unexpected experience, a whole different kind of sexy!

21. If I’m horny she just plays with my dick and if she’s horny I just play with her breasts and her rather bubbly butt.

I have dated a (mtf) girl for about 3 years now. She told me early so I knew ahead of time it would probably end up being different but I went for it. It actually was a lot better than I thought! With the help of lube she was particularly wet and I was able to go in and get my business done. We don’t really even have sex that often. If I’m horny she just plays with my dick and if she’s horny I just play with her breasts and her rather bubbly butt. And yes, she looks like a perfectly normal female.

22. Super tight and small.

Super tight and small. Her size makes deep penetration hard and feels like a vise on my dick. She got it done by one of the best, paid all cash and went with the largest size available. I have had sex with women who are smaller, but over time their body seems to accommodate. Also the limits on the vagina seem to be a hard stop in my partner.

Overall the sex is amazing, even the intercourse, intercourse is a small part of great sex.

I love her and am so glad she is part of my life.

23. The parts down below felt totally normal.

Felt fine. The scar around his chest was interesting, where he had had his breasts reformed, but the parts down below felt totally normal.

24. It was mainly like masturbating but with two people involved.

Trans myself and bisexual, so far had sex with: a cis guy, a trans guy who had not transitioned at all yet, and a post-transition trans guy.

Sex with a pre-everything trans guy meant I was bottoming almost all the time and he didn’t like to be touched much. Not much to say aside from that, in general I quite liked it as we had similar sexual interests and that seems to be the main factor in whether I enjoy sex with someone, aside from emotional connection.

Sex with a post-transition trans guy is quite different, as firstly I can actually touch him and even occasionally top, and secondly his body is quite different. Even if the genitals are the same at the start, hormones significantly change how they work and look.

I could not have sex with a cis woman in the same way even simply for logistic reasons, a woman’s vagina does not exactly look and work like a post-transition trans man’s genitals. Without going into details, there are things that would just be downright impossible.

Sex with a cis guy is something I was very curious about and had expectations for, but ended up being very disappointing. I would guess mainly because there wasn’t much of an emotional build-up so it was mainly like masturbating but with two people involved and more awkward, and we weren’t very compatible sexually. Curiosity towards cis dick is a poor substitute for sexual chemistry.

25. It was about the same experience as being the top in your average gay sex.

Context: I am a cisgendered bisexual mid-20s male. I have been in sexual relationships with both cis men and cis women and feel perfectly comfortable with either. I have several transgender friends and have all the respect in the world for transgender people.

I was in a short-term casual relationship with a trans man (that is female-to-male) about two years ago that lasted only a month or so. We met on a dating site with the intention of drinking beer together and possibly having sex. I don’t remember who instigated the exchange but he ended up coming to my place. He had been on hormone replacement therapy for several years and had had top surgery. He was completely passing, i.e., you would not be able to tell he was transgender unless you were told, or saw him without clothes on.

Physically, the sex was pretty unremarkable. Being that I am bisexual and have had experience with both men and women I was not exposed to anything I was uncomfortable or unfamiliar with. I would say that oral sex was the same as going down on a woman (albeit quite a bit hairier than most cis women like to keep it) and otherwise it was about the same experience as being the top in your average gay sex. The strangest part about the whole thing for me was how I was maybe… overly sensitive about him being trans at first. Not wanting to ask any questions or offend, letting him take the lead, etc. He was quite comfortable with being trans, though, and after the first time we had sex, each time after that was the same as any other gay casual relationship. We would have continued seeing each other but he had plans to move across the country and we started seeing each other with the knowledge that it would be a short-lived fling.

I’ll answer any questions.

tl;dr-same as regular old gay sex once I stopped being overly sensitive about his trans status.

26. I’ve had anal and oral with both cis and trans women and it feels identical.

She didn’t dilate a lot so it was too tight to function in. I know it hurts girls, but it’s for your health, not just for sex.

Otherwise I’ve had anal and oral with both cis and trans women and it feels identical in that regard, and it wasn’t a problem.

My standards for women are nearly as high as my standards for myself, but what she was born with (hair color, metabolism, ethnicity, genitals, social class, etc.) don’t really factor into it. In that regard I’m extremely not picky. So I’ve had at this point almost equal share of sex with trans and cis women, and about 20% of my relationships were with trans women.

Men don’t do it for me though. Just not attracted.

27. He’d had top surgery and looked just like a guy, had body hair and a dripping wet pussy.

I hooked up with a FtM trans guy once, he wanted to wank me while I played with his clit. He’d had top surgery and looked just like a guy, had body hair and a dripping wet pussy. It was pretty cool, I’d definitely do it again.

28. My cock wouldn’t fit inside.

I tried sleeping with a trans lady once, my cock wouldn’t fit inside, apparently it was too soon after her op, so it compared pretty poorly.

29. It felt pretty okay.

I had a Male to Female. I’m a male. It felt pretty okay, the only problem I encountered was that it was noticeably wider and felt worse than the average vagina I encountered. And another problem was that we had to use lube, otherwise it was just almost impossible.

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from 29 People Describe What Sex With A Trans Person Feels Like

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29 People Describe What Sex With A Trans Person Feels Like

Found on AskReddit.

1. It’s basically like being with a cis dude with a very small dick.

My ex is a pre-bottom surgery trans man.

As the top commenter said, it’s basically like being with a cis dude with a very small dick. He has been on hormones for 8 years so his growth down there was pretty developed. We were able to have penetrative sex (I’m a woman, btw). Also he was pretty skilled in the whole sexual department, and I put that down to him being a woman before so he knew how to work female genitalia in a way that a cis man couldn’t.

Apart from the physical side, the emotional side can be pretty intense. A lot of pre-surgery trans people have issues around dysphoria during sex, and this stopped sex dead in its tracks a few times for us. He did not like being penetrated at all, which I didn’t realize at first because he was too shy to tell me. That was a bit awkward, and it made me feel like shit afterward.

Overall, even though he had female genitals, it was pretty much just like being with a cis guy physically. 10/10, would sleep with a trans dude again.

2. It is different because of different hardware, but still quite enjoyable.

I am in a relationship with a pre-op MtF girl. It is different because of different hardware, but still quite enjoyable. She cums from anal quite a bit, and I enjoy it as well. Mechanically, it would be very much like regular anal, but the emotional component and feelings behind it all is like any other relationship.

3. She was incredibly tight and we needed a lot of lube. But it was pretty great.

I was FWB with a woman who I actually started hooking up with pre-trans I guess? She had a penis when we met and we did everything anally for a few months. She finally got herself fixed and she was the happiest I’ve ever seen someone be in my whole life, it was a pretty nice experience. She took a few months (maybe close to a year) to recover. When we went to hook up again, she just had a vagina. It looked pretty normal, pretty cute. She was incredibly tight and we needed a lot of lube. But it was pretty great.

Honestly, it felt nice to look HR in the eyes while we fucked, not being able to do that totally removed a lot of the connection for me.

4. I have never been with a woman with such vaginal strength.

I’ve been seeing a guy (FTM) for over a year now. I am a bi guy(CIS).

He very much looks and smells like a guy. Very muscular as well.

So sex-wise for me, everything has been better. I have never been with a woman with such vaginal strength. Would be scary if it wasn’t such an awesome feeling. His natural lube does seem to be different. The same, but with a little more stickiness, then the few women I’ve had un-condomed sex with. Not that I’ve had enough to know how they all are.

I like to think the sex has been great because we are clicking well, not because of our genders. Kissing has been the biggest deal. I just love holding him and kissing him.

5. The lack of penis didn’t bother me, but the presence of a vagina was a bit startling.

It threw me off a bit, the lack of penis didn’t bother me, but the presence of a vagina was a bit startling. It was hard to get the sheer presence of it out of my mind for some reason. Super-hot and nice guy though. I definitely enjoyed myself, it was just a bit disarming, but not much was actually different (we mostly did anal, but I herp derped up in his snatch for a bit and it felt pretty good, but I was unaccustomed to the angles of view that vaginal sex leads to, it was novel and a bit strange).

6. The only issue was, she had pubic hair growing inside of her vagina.

Yes, I am a bi guy. I hooked up with a MtF, I just liked her style. She had had a lot of surgery, including a neo vagina. I wanted to try it. I’ll call her Molly, cuz that’s what she liked to do. I met her at a fetish club. She was hot, and she didn’t pass. There’s something that turns me on about non-passing MtF’s, it’s hard to explain. But the point is: I didnt expect her to pass, and she wasn’t trying to fool me. The neo-vagina didn’t pass either, but it sure did feel good. I would be down to do it again, if Molly hadn’t been so into drug culture, I would have. The only issue was, she had pubic hair growing inside of her vagina. Thick, coarse ones. I asked her about it, and it has something to do with the neo-vagina being constructed from testicle skin. There are pictures of this online. Anyway, I could feel the hair through the condom even, and I was worried about these vaginal pubic hairs causing condom breakage. And diseases, Molly was a lolly but she got around.

7. It was tight, it was soft, it was warm, it was very wet (because we used lube!), and it was sex with someone I was already mentally in love with.

I had a year+ relationship with a MtF post-op. We went from chatting at a bar, to playing (at a BDSM club), to fucking, in about a month and a half. Not entirely out of the norm I’d guess.

She said she’d started on hormones pretty late but also had a very delayed puberty so that sort of evened out, and then went to Thailand at 29. We met about 4 years after she had surgery. All that to say that she had slim hips, a slim bone structure, pretty much nothing pointed to born male appears female. Her vagina looked like a vagina. There’s enough variety in the world that I didn’t inspect it vigorously to determine how it came about. She had some small breasts that weren’t implants. Basically, I didn’t know.

Sex was great. We needed lube, but the only uncommon thing about that for me in many cases is that we needed it right at the start instead of first sometime in the middle. It was tight, it was soft, it was warm, it was very wet (because we used lube!), and it was sex with someone I was already mentally in love with. Also breasts. And my hand around her throat. A good time.

She told me she was trans, in a public place, a little while later. She was worried about what sort of reaction I might have to learning that. The whole you tricked me into fucking a dude now I’m going to kill you thing. But I just didn’t care. This is actually something I’ve thought about a lot since, and I wish she had told me ahead of time. I understand why she didn’t but it’s still something she kept me from having informed consent about. Since I didn’t care to begin with I haven’t stayed too worried about it.

Our relationship went really strongly for a bit over a year and we ended up breaking up over personality meshing issues. A regular old breakup. But even by the end the sex was still great.

8. The surgical scar from the vulva up was a distraction, as was the unusual hip-to-waist ratio.

The first minute was good, after that it was uncomfortable.

I’m a guy. This was at a sex club. I walked in on her (male-to-female) sitting on a bed with a younger guy who clearly couldn’t perform for whatever reason. So she was horny, I was horny, and we got it on immediately.

The room was dark, and she had kind of a strong chin, but I didn’t really think about it. She was on top, and held my arms down. I thought, Man, she’s strong. And not merely strong for a woman (of her size.)

But the vagina felt great. Naturally lubricated, better than those of some natural women I’ve been inside. However, the surgical scar from the vulva up was a distraction, as was the unusual hip-to-waist ratio.

My experience is probably unusual in that I had sex with her while getting acquainted. I don’t know whether the onus was on her to tell me she used to be a dude, or on me to notice it before plunging in. Either way, it wasn’t awful. I might repeat if I knew what to expect going in.

9. His fluids taste like cum and his parts all have a man’s smell and they’re all covered in hair.

My partner and I are both trans. I’m MtF and he’s FtM.

Most of it is about as different as sex is with any other partner. Everyone has their likes and dislikes, and you kind of fumble your way around to figuring out what works, and then do some more of that. He’s obsessed with my breasts and mauls them at every opportunity, when he nuzzles my neck or kisses me his beard scratches me up. He smells like a man, I smell like a woman. My skin is soft and his is hairy.

There’s lots of kissing and groping and laughing and talking and dreaming, and then our pants come off.

His dick is about the size of a pinky finger from the second knuckle. I can give him head just like any other guy, and he love it. His fluids taste like cum and his parts all have a man’s smell and they’re all covered in hair.

I still have a functioning strapless that gets joyfully ignored. It no longer produces emissions and I have multiple orgasms. I particularly enjoy having things put in my inguinal canal. It’s called muffing, and it feels really nice. It hits all of the important nerves and has enough space to fit a thumb. If you have testicles and aren’t on HRT, your testicles might get in the way.

Remember my guy’s size? Yup. It fits. Perfectly.

So yeah, it’s pretty normal, just a little different, and the pillow talk is way more interesting.

10. We both went from being horny and wanting something inside of us to wanting to grind on things instead.

My partner and I are both trans, and both Female to Male. Neither of us have bottom surgery-but that is more due to the lack of good surgeons/surgeries in my area than a lack of desire for it.

Hormones still do a lot to the clitoris. I think the thing that surprised us both was how quickly our clits grew. My partner’s does not stay tucked up in the skin anymore, and it freely hangs down a bit. I can actually give them head-like giving a blowjob to a very tiny penis.

Other than that, body smells are now a thing. Even after having a shower just that day, the body smells a lot different now than it did before. And everything is very hairy.

We’re both about 8 months into hormones right now, so I’m sure we still have a long way to go as far as changes go.

In comparison to a cis dudethe dick is just much smaller. Also, we both went from being horny and wanting something inside of us to wanting to grind on things instead. Humping makes so much more sense now, and it’s become so much more fun to just grind. Sometimes we prefer that to trying to even bother with penetration.

11. Having sex with a mtf transsexual was like having the best of both worlds: the looks and touch of a female but with a little surprise down below.

I (male) have had sex with a mtf escort. I was in Australia and had always been interested so I decided why not. Besides the fact that she was an escort it was actually a pretty enjoyable experience. Besides having a deeper voice and being a little taller than most females, she did not look any different than any other cis female. As for the sex, besides having a penis, it was surprisingly similar to sex with a cis female. It was actually a great experience because I was allowed to experiment with a few fantasies while still being turned on by her appearances. I don’t consider myself gay and would probably never have sex with a male but having sex with a mtf transsexual was like having the best of both worlds: the looks and touch of a female but with a little surprise down below

12. She has small A-cups and smells like a girl.

Im currently dating a trans woman. Its great. She hasn’t had bottom surgery because from what the doctors have told her there is only a 60% chance she will be able to achieve orgasm if she does. Her testes have withdrawn back up into her body and her penis has gotten smaller. She doesnt ejaculate. So basically she has a large clit and no vagina. There are the usual issues with anal penetration but being bisexual myself I know how to navigate these issues.

She has small A-cups and smells like a girl. She acts like the woman that she is. I really enjoy spending time with her, even out of the bedroom.

13. Her vagina was very much like any other woman’s though the labia were a bit smaller, in her case, and she had a less depth.

My (ex) girlfriend had transitioned six years before I met her, and completed her sexual reassignment surgery (SRS) two years prior. Before surgery the effects of estrogen combined with androgen (male hormone) blockers had transformed her breasts, hips, skin and hair and greatly affected her sex life, as well. Most MtF women eventually lose the function of their penis due to hormone treatments, and for many this is not a problem. Receiving penetrative anal sex became much more pleasurable after hormones for my gf, and she could orgasm that way alone. I am told this is a common side effect, though not every woman experiences hormone treatments the same way.

After SRS, my gf had an extended period of recovery where she slowly regained sexual feeling and the ability to enjoy vaginal sex. She told me it was like a training period where her body reconnected with her new vagina both physically and mentally. From my perspective having sex with her two year after the surgery, her vagina was very much like any other woman’s though the labia were a bit smaller, in her case, and she had a less depth. Genetic women can accommodate babies, after all, and their vaginas are remarkably stretchy.

Her vagina did not lubricate naturally and required plenty of lube for sex, but I am told that new SRS procedures can now use the body’s own secretion-producing tissue to simulate vaginal lubricant during arousal. All in all, she was very pleased and fulfilled that her body was now fully female in form and function and that translated into hot sex. When we were dating, she was coming very close (pun intended) to achieving orgasm from vaginal sex and I was of course eager to help her on that journey.

14. Honestly it was pretty hot.

A friend of mine is FTM and we sort of hooked up at a party. Honestly it was pretty hot. I’m male myself but I’ve never really cared about my partners gender or at least it doesn’t play much into whether or not I’m sexually interested in them. He preferred that I didn’t penetrate him so we just sort of grinded, made out, and rubbed each other off. I’d do it again.

15. Sex seems to work best as a tender, sensual affair with lots of nipple stimulation.

MTF here, plus I have a MTF partner. Neither of us have had surgery, though both of us experience significant dysphoria about our genitals. Money is the most significant hurdle to getting an orchiectomy or vaginoplasty.

Sex is difficult. We both are extra sensitive to each other’s needs; we have sex drives and enjoy the pleasure of the penis being stimulated while simultaneously getting sort of grossed out with our own body. Recently she was stimulating me, and I started crying, so sex stopped and she comforted me in my dysphoria. We talk a LOT about the dysphoria and any frustration we have. Sex seems to work best as a tender, sensual affair with lots of nipple stimulation. My own issues are exacerbated by a lot of guilt over sexuality that comes from growing up as a fundamental Christian.

16. I’m a whore, so the penis didn’t stop me from initiating sex after the first date.

Some background info: I am a cis woman, married to a mtf woman. I had never dated a trans person prior to her. I was a gold star lesbian. When we started dating, I knew she was trans because she stated so in her dating profile. We actually met in the real world but I had seen her profile and remembered her from it. The night we met, after it was obvious we hit it off, she disclosed her pre-op status. As I already knew, I was able to avoid any look of surprise, no matter how momentary. This, I found out, really put her at ease. Much respect to anyone that has something like this to disclose during early dating. It must be terrifying. Anyway, I’m a whore, so the penis didn’t stop me from initiating sex after the first date. I did have to admit I had no idea how to work with a penis, but we are both very open sexually, so we were able to talk through it (and our kinks) in a fluid manner. The sex was great. Standard p in v stuff, oral (both ways), some choking. You know, normal. Though she needed a lot of stimulation to orgasm, and it didn’t always happen. I remember being extremely impressed that first time that she was so accepting of her current situation (no bottom or top surgery, and small breasts from hormones). She ended up getting her SRS (Satterwhite) about two years into our relationship, after we got engaged. The results look good, and she is fully orgasmic. She’s had issues with healing, though, which are mostly from her not doing what she is supposed to do for upkeep. It’s killed our sex life, and has led to a lot of resentment on her end. Some is mental issues I’m battling with, some is my not wanting to deal (during sex) with the occasional blood and malodorous discharge that comes from her not healing a surgical site properly. It’s just not arousing at all. She’s working right now with her OB to properly heal the neo-vagina, so I’m hopeful.

17. Couldn’t tell a difference.

I did in July or so from a OKCupid date/hookup. Four times in about a 24-hour period. I actually didn’t know til after though but I did think it was strange when she asked for lube like right away. I’ve had girls ask for lube before but usually its ones that are older or farther into relationship.

Anyways couldn’t tell a difference. A friend of mine went to high school with her when she still had a dick. She only went part of Freshman year then was home schooled. I thought my friend was bullshitting me but scanned the year book pic and told me to search her name on Topix and people talk about her having the surgery done. She also had very small boobs. Usually the voice is a red flag in videos but hers sounded feminine. She was only 20 so must have had it done early or started hormones early.

I didn’t see her again; she was a bit of a nutcase and clingy. Sex was good though. I already had decided not to meet up with her anymore before I found out about the sex change. I probably would have still hooked up with her if she told me but feel not telling me was uncool so just reaffirmed not talking to her anymore.

18. We have mostly vaginal sex, but it feels more like sleeping with a guy, like with a good bro.

Background: Im a Bi cis-gender male, my partner is a trans man (ftm). I met him over summer this year and he disclosed from the beginning that he was trans. The majority of my sexual experiences have been with female partners. I came out as bi to my family because of him.

We talked through text and phone calls before we met in person and he had told me about himself including sexuality and gender (gay trans man for reference.) The way he described himself I would have guessed his feminine features might be more apparent, and that he may have trouble with being misgendered. To my surprise upon first meeting him, besides the lack of beard, that made him look a little younger than his age, he seemed like any other gay guy. We hit it off after meeting and started dating.

As for sex, since the options for bottom surgery arent that great, he isnt planning on it and has come to terms with that. Before we started dating, I thought I had a high sex drive, but since we started living together I just cant keep up. Weve talked about it a lot and I understand his needs (for the most part) and he understands my libido isnt quite is high as his.

So, with that said, I feel like our sex is far closer to gay sex and is fundamentally different in practice than the sex with all of my previous female partners. Oral sex is easier due to his clit being closer to a small penis, sensations like sucking, nibbling, more and harder pressure tend to be much more pleasurable. Even during vaginal intercourse, it feels much more like topping a guy, hair/stubble rub against me, his low moans are in a stark contrast to the female tone. We have mostly vaginal sex, but it feels more like sleeping with a guy, like with a good bro. There are only subtleties of his previous identity. I dont plan on sharing those because I would rather be the only one who knows. Otherwise he is rather masculine, slightly timid face, normal proportions for his shorter stature, most of the time he wears briefs and binds. So, looking at him on a typical day at school/work most people easily see a male. He has a normal male odor and uses masculine deodorant and wash. He began shaving his genitals at my request, but hes hairy in the rest of the normal places for a guy.

As our relationship is young, we havent ventured into too many unknowns, but plans for the future include pegging because, well, I cant have all the fun. Thats one of the perks of a relationship with a trans person, because conversations about sexuality tend to come up early and more often. Kinks and sexual play feel more comfortable to discuss. This level of communication in my experience has been difficult to work towards in my prior relationships where sexuality wasnt brought up due to the status quo.

19. The clits engorge considerably, and are a ton of fun to play with, closer to a blowjob than cunnilingus.

Bisexual man here, I’ve dated/had sex with two pre-op transmen on T, one who started hormones while we were dating.

The clits engorge considerably, and are a ton of fun to play with, closer to a blowjob than cunnilingus.

Testosterone seems to interfere with vaginal wetness, so lube is important if he’s interested in that, and seemed to make him interested in sex more frequently but for a shorter session.

20. Such a great and unexpected experience, a whole different kind of sexy!

I had an awesome experience with a MtF girl, who had been on hormones for a while but still pre-op. Already had bigger boobs than me but still rather well-endowed downstairs. I am bisexual so am very much into both guys and girls anyway, but it was such a great and unexpected experience, a whole different kind of sexy!

21. If I’m horny she just plays with my dick and if she’s horny I just play with her breasts and her rather bubbly butt.

I have dated a (mtf) girl for about 3 years now. She told me early so I knew ahead of time it would probably end up being different but I went for it. It actually was a lot better than I thought! With the help of lube she was particularly wet and I was able to go in and get my business done. We don’t really even have sex that often. If I’m horny she just plays with my dick and if she’s horny I just play with her breasts and her rather bubbly butt. And yes, she looks like a perfectly normal female.

22. Super tight and small.

Super tight and small. Her size makes deep penetration hard and feels like a vise on my dick. She got it done by one of the best, paid all cash and went with the largest size available. I have had sex with women who are smaller, but over time their body seems to accommodate. Also the limits on the vagina seem to be a hard stop in my partner.

Overall the sex is amazing, even the intercourse, intercourse is a small part of great sex.

I love her and am so glad she is part of my life.

23. The parts down below felt totally normal.

Felt fine. The scar around his chest was interesting, where he had had his breasts reformed, but the parts down below felt totally normal.

24. It was mainly like masturbating but with two people involved.

Trans myself and bisexual, so far had sex with: a cis guy, a trans guy who had not transitioned at all yet, and a post-transition trans guy.

Sex with a pre-everything trans guy meant I was bottoming almost all the time and he didn’t like to be touched much. Not much to say aside from that, in general I quite liked it as we had similar sexual interests and that seems to be the main factor in whether I enjoy sex with someone, aside from emotional connection.

Sex with a post-transition trans guy is quite different, as firstly I can actually touch him and even occasionally top, and secondly his body is quite different. Even if the genitals are the same at the start, hormones significantly change how they work and look.

I could not have sex with a cis woman in the same way even simply for logistic reasons, a woman’s vagina does not exactly look and work like a post-transition trans man’s genitals. Without going into details, there are things that would just be downright impossible.

Sex with a cis guy is something I was very curious about and had expectations for, but ended up being very disappointing. I would guess mainly because there wasn’t much of an emotional build-up so it was mainly like masturbating but with two people involved and more awkward, and we weren’t very compatible sexually. Curiosity towards cis dick is a poor substitute for sexual chemistry.

25. It was about the same experience as being the top in your average gay sex.

Context: I am a cisgendered bisexual mid-20s male. I have been in sexual relationships with both cis men and cis women and feel perfectly comfortable with either. I have several transgender friends and have all the respect in the world for transgender people.

I was in a short-term casual relationship with a trans man (that is female-to-male) about two years ago that lasted only a month or so. We met on a dating site with the intention of drinking beer together and possibly having sex. I don’t remember who instigated the exchange but he ended up coming to my place. He had been on hormone replacement therapy for several years and had had top surgery. He was completely passing, i.e., you would not be able to tell he was transgender unless you were told, or saw him without clothes on.

Physically, the sex was pretty unremarkable. Being that I am bisexual and have had experience with both men and women I was not exposed to anything I was uncomfortable or unfamiliar with. I would say that oral sex was the same as going down on a woman (albeit quite a bit hairier than most cis women like to keep it) and otherwise it was about the same experience as being the top in your average gay sex. The strangest part about the whole thing for me was how I was maybe… overly sensitive about him being trans at first. Not wanting to ask any questions or offend, letting him take the lead, etc. He was quite comfortable with being trans, though, and after the first time we had sex, each time after that was the same as any other gay casual relationship. We would have continued seeing each other but he had plans to move across the country and we started seeing each other with the knowledge that it would be a short-lived fling.

I’ll answer any questions.

tl;dr-same as regular old gay sex once I stopped being overly sensitive about his trans status.

26. I’ve had anal and oral with both cis and trans women and it feels identical.

She didn’t dilate a lot so it was too tight to function in. I know it hurts girls, but it’s for your health, not just for sex.

Otherwise I’ve had anal and oral with both cis and trans women and it feels identical in that regard, and it wasn’t a problem.

My standards for women are nearly as high as my standards for myself, but what she was born with (hair color, metabolism, ethnicity, genitals, social class, etc.) don’t really factor into it. In that regard I’m extremely not picky. So I’ve had at this point almost equal share of sex with trans and cis women, and about 20% of my relationships were with trans women.

Men don’t do it for me though. Just not attracted.

27. He’d had top surgery and looked just like a guy, had body hair and a dripping wet pussy.

I hooked up with a FtM trans guy once, he wanted to wank me while I played with his clit. He’d had top surgery and looked just like a guy, had body hair and a dripping wet pussy. It was pretty cool, I’d definitely do it again.

28. My cock wouldn’t fit inside.

I tried sleeping with a trans lady once, my cock wouldn’t fit inside, apparently it was too soon after her op, so it compared pretty poorly.

29. It felt pretty okay.

I had a Male to Female. I’m a male. It felt pretty okay, the only problem I encountered was that it was noticeably wider and felt worse than the average vagina I encountered. And another problem was that we had to use lube, otherwise it was just almost impossible.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/29-people-describe-what-sex-with-a-trans-person-feels-like/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/177223503667