#because who the fuck can replace alan rickman

[americannslytherinn]

the only ways i could get behind a harry potter film reboot is a) they diversify the story against jkr's wishes (i.e. more than just a majority white cast, actively lgbtq+ characters, etc etc) and b) they put in some things from the books that the 00s movies didn't capture (ik it's not practical or realistic to ask for a movie that's a completely accurate adaptation of a book, but still there's so many scenes that could've improved the already pretty good films)

[santana-maribel]

who: @santana-maribel​ and @smythenyu​. where: santana & quinn’s apartment. when: saturday 28th march. what: a booty call but with feelings~ warnings: nsfw, sex, swearing etc.

Rolling her eyes at his last text message, Santana tossed her phone in the coffee table in front of her. Whatever Santana and Sebastian had going on, put simply, just worked. It was easy, fun and surprisingly, uncomplicated. There were no bold declarations of love and neither of them were interested in exploring any kind of relationship aspect. Truthfully, the whole damn world was probably surprised that it hadn’t  before now. Sure, they got drunk or high and fooled around a ton before but now it was happening more and more often sober. Her thoughts occasionally circled back to their matching, marked wrists. If she believed, truly believed in it, being soulmates with Seb wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? Unclear. Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, she heard the front door of their apartment open. Of course he had his own key. She was lazy, this was convenient, it just made sense. She didn’t take her eyes off of the television in front of her, where she was scrolling through netflix to find the film he wanted. Normally she would fight him a little, make him watch something that she wanted. But she hadn’t seen him in a few days and though she would never admit it, she missed his company a little. Jesse had already swung by the apartment and picked up Quinn, so they had the place to themselves. “I’m gonna’ start watching Die Hard, you take too long to do anything today,” she called out, waiting for him to join her on the couch.

Sebastian had driven to Santana’s, so it wasn’t long from the last text to him entering the door, shutting it behind him and noticing the girl on the sofa. “I wasn’t long at all,” he shot back, kicking off his shoes and moving to sit down beside her, glancing at the tv and settling back, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re just impatient,” he replied, smirking a little as he finally looked at her. “Gotta learn to be able to wait for a good thing, babe.” He’d been trying his best not to overthink their relationship as of lately. But with everyone going on about soulmates non stop, it was kinda hard to not even consider the possibility. The sex was good, they were almost too similar in nature, and they were both hot, but that didn’t mean that they were soulmates, more like good friends who fucked. Sebastian still thought the entire idea of it was stupid. Why does someone or something else get to decide who you’re meant to be with for the rest of your life? Perhaps, seeing his parents, who had once thought they were soulmates, getting divorced when he was young really thwarted his view, but also he saw it everyday. “Have you got any snacks? Or booze?” he asked Santana, pushing the thoughts from his head. “I really could use a beer.”

Their friendship pre-fwb was startlingly similar to what it was now; he’d come over, or she’d go to his place, they’d drink, shoot the shit, occasionally fool around. It was a comfort to her, that between them, nothing had really changed, too much. They kissed a lot more now and they fell asleep together too. But otherwise, it was business as usual between the two of them. She smiled at his comment, then clicked her tongue. She didn’t even want to make a bitchy remark at him. She was getting soft in the head. “Well, i’m glad you’re here anyway,” she admitted, leaning into his side when he placed his arm around her. How comforting he was. Santana nodded at his question and stood up, walking into the kitchen. Her Mama always taught her to take care of her guests, how to be the perfect little hostess. She grabbed two ice-cold beers from the fridge and several packets of chips from the pantry, before she came back into the living room, placing them on the coffee table in front of him. “Don’t say i’m not good to you,” she muttered, as she resumed her original position on the couch. She had seen this film before and enjoyed it well enough, but her thoughts were a thousand miles away from Bruce Willis, even though he looked like a particular snack in this film. “You know this is a Christmas movie, right? Why the hell are we watching it just now?” she asked, an eyebrow arched at him in curiosity.

“you’re an actual angel,” he drawled as she returned and passed him his beer, settling back again with his arm around her, a soft grin on his lips. he glanced back at the tv then, sipping his beer, his hand tracing patterns on her shoulder. “it’s an every day of the year movie, tana. shut up. let bruce willis be his sexy, masculine self.” despite his complaints, he found himself not paying a whole lot of attention to it, his hand having moved into her hair, finishing his beer and placing it down onto the coffee table. he grabbed a bag of chips and balanced them on his lap so he could eat with his free hand. “okay, bruce willis, alan rickman, bonnie bedelia, as they are in the film right now. fuck, marry, kill.”

She bit back whatever remark she was going to make, when he made his comment about her being an angel and smirked softly, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch, beer resting on her leg. It was a good movie and she ignored his snark laced comment, eyes focusing on the screen in front of them. It didn't take long before he began distracting her. This always happened. She tried to think of a time when they had put on a movie and actually got more than a quarter of the way through or god forbid actually finished it. She couldn't remember one single time. It just wasn't their style. She shuddered underneath his touch, fingers running through her hair and watched as he rustled with the bag of chips on his lap. His game made her laugh out loud and she nodded, glancing between him and the screen. "Ah fuck," she sighed, considering her options. "Fuck Bruce Willis because, look at him," she jabbed her elbow towards the screen. "Marry Alan Rickman because why the hell not and kill Bonnie Bedelia because that hair is giving me anxiety. Perms are fuckin' gross," she answered before taking a gulp of her beer. "Same question to you," she shot back, nudging him in the side with her finger.

Sebastian chuckled, placing his bag of chips aside but continuing to play with her hair, smirking at her answers to the question. He nodded though, "I'd marry Bruce Willis, because then we could also fuck til he lost his hair and I asked for a divorce. I'd fuck Alan Rickman, rest in peace, and I'd kill Bonnie too. Her hair is definitely too much." His attention was no longer on the tv now at all. He'd seen Die Hard a million times anyway, and Santana was right there. He turned his head, nuzzling into her neck. "Fuck, marry, kill. Me, Aubrey, Finn."

It was one of her favourite things about Sebastian, the fact that he didn't see gender; he saw a conquest. Despite the fact she tended to keep exclusively to cock now, she too had been known to enjoy the same gender. College girls were curious and really, it would be rude not to help them out. She nodded approvingly at his answers, fiddling with the label on her bottle. She was thinking of a selection of her own when he started speaking again. She raised an eyebrow at him, mulling over the options as she drained her beer and sat the empty on the table. This was an interesting question, for sure. "Fuck Hudson because I kind of wonder if the whole size = 'size' thing is true and he's like over a foot taller than me. Marry Aubrey because he's a sweetheart and kill you because you've served your purpose now," she teased, fingertips tracing his smooth jawline. She was joking. Mostly. "Same question, but replace you with me."

Sebastian's lips parted as if offended, pushing her back though there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Wow, okay. I'd kill you too then, you'll never know my original answers and I guess if you're done with me you won't want to fuck tonight either," he shot back at her, crossing his arms and pouting as he leant back against the arm of the couch, his feet against her thighs to keep them apart.

"I bet I can guess your original answers," she replied, fighting off her own smile tugging at her lips, as he pushed her hand away and pretended to be mad. "Kill Finn, naturally. Fuck Aubrey because hate fucking is amazing and marry me because we would have like the most chill and open marriage ever." She wasn't sure she was correct but her voice was confident as she spoke.  She scoffed at his reaction, "c'mon, I was only teasing," she murmured, running a hand up the inside of his thigh.

Sebastian kept his arms crossed, a pout still on his lips as he refused to look at her. "I guess you'll never know if you're right," he huffed, although she was definitely right. "As if you would kill me," he continued, trying not to think about Santana's hand moving up his thigh and focus instead on his fake pouting. "Like I am clearly the superior one out of me, Aubrey, and Finn. Frankly, I wonder now about your taste, Santana."

She couldn't explain why she had chosen Finn as her fuck instead of him, it was weird. She had been poised to kill him off in their little game but when the push came to the shove, she couldn't do it. "Of course you are baby," she cooed, her fingers still trailing up his thigh, settling on his dick. God, she loved their games. "I mean my taste must be pretty terrible if i'm doing this," she countered, an eyebrow raised as she reached for his zipper.

Sebastian bit down on his bottom lip as her hand moved over his crotch, glancing down as she moved to pull down the zipper. "I should at least be your fuck," he murmured quietly, a little distracted by her movements. "Although, really..." he trailed off, forgetting what new complaint he had for now, reaching to pull Santana closer.

He had folded quickly for him, hungry eyes watching as he bit down on his lip. Victorious, he pulled her closer and she pressed a kiss to his neck. "It's a game, you get to fuck me for real, unless you're gonna' be a whiny bitch," she murmured against his skin, as she kissed down, not even needing to look at her hands on his zipper. She'd done this so many times it was like muscle memory.

Sebastian sighed softly, relaxing back into the sofa now, his hand sliding back into Santana's hair as she kissed down from his neck. "No whining," he agreed, licking his lips as he lifted his hips slightly, eager for her touch. "Promise," he continued, pulling her back up to kiss her deeply, his tongue slipping past her teeth and his hand tightening in her hair.

One hand snaked around his neck, pulling him close to her, threading through the back of his hair. The other, found its way down into his boxers and wrapped around his cock, pumping gently. Their kiss, as always, was electrifying, as the two of their tongues battled for dominance. For someone who had such a hard-on for control, Santana always found herself willing to submit to him. This was easily proven as his hand tightened in her hair and she let out a soft gasp into his mouth, breaking the kiss slightly. "Seb..." she muttered quietly.

Sebastian groaned quietly against her lips, thrusting his hips up and into her touch. He kissed her deeply, his other hand smoothing down her back and over her ass, pulling back to catch his breath, his eyes dark. "Mhm," he hummed, "I knew you wanted me..." He smirked, pressing another kiss to her lips before reaching to tug at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal her bra, chucking it to the side.

She scowled at his words, hating that she was like putty in his hands. She wasn't too mad, really though. This was pretty high on her list of favourite things to do. She allowed him to lift up her top, pulling her hand out of his underwear and raising both of them above her head as he discarded the item of clothing before she returned the favour and pulled at the collar of his. "Off, Seb. Take it off," she demanded softly.

Sebastian chuckled, smirking but sitting up just enough to tug his shirt up and off for her, throwing it aside before lying back and pulling her over him. His hands slid up her back, smoothing under the band of her bra, kissing her slowly as he rocked his hips up just slowly against hers. "Wanna ride me?" he whispered against her ear.

She was grateful that Quinn and Jesse had left the apartment because they were not being subtle in the slightest, as she moved her legs to either side of his, straddling him on the couch. Her body instinctively moved with his, as she ground against him. This. This was why she always wore skirts or dresses when he was around. Easy access. She nodded at his question, shuddering under the feeling of his breath, hot on her ear, but didn't miss a beat to make a bitchy remark. "You're fuckin' lazy," she whispered back, arms circling around his neck.

Sebastian just grinned wider at that, "You like riding me," he shot back, tilting his head so their lips brushed as he continued to rock his hips up against her, growing harder in his underwear. His fingers moved to the clasp of her bra then, unhooking it easily with one hand and raising an eyebrow. "You don't wanna?"

She shrugged off her bra, letting it fall off to the side carelessly, to join their ever-growing pile of clothes, before moving her arms back to his neck. "I didn't say that," she replied simply, pressing her chest flush against his. "Just observing," she joked, as she moved back on her knees a little, giving a gentle tug at his underwear and jeans. "You want me to ride you, gotta take these off."

Sebastian's hands slid up her sides as she pressed against him, pouting as she pulled back but not hesitating to reach down to shove his jeans and underwear down his legs in one go, kicking them off. He bent over then, grabbing a condom from his jeans pocket and settling back as he reached to pull her closer, dropping it beside them. "You need to be naked too," he murmured, his hands moving down to her hips.

She rolled her hips against him a few times more before acquiescing to his request. She stood up and shimmied her skirt down from her hips, kicking it away from her feet. Her underwear swiftly followed and now they were both completely naked, she hopped back on his lap and pressed her face into his neck, sinking her teeth down and sucking gently as she ground on him a little, just to tease.

Sebastian bit his lip as he watched her completely undress, grinning as she moved back over him. He lifted his hips up against her, rocking with her slowly and groaning quietly. His hands moved over her sides and up over her chest as he tilted his head back.

They were a mess of breathy pants, hands running all over one another, mouths moving together in unison. It was consuming and she knew that she needed more. Wordlessly, she lifted the condom from next to them on the couch and lifted it to her mouth, ripping the foil open with her teeth. She didn't wait for permission before she rolled the rubber down his cock, tossing the foil behind her. That would be later hers problem. "More," she groaned in his ear.

Sebastian pulled back as she did, eyes following her as she grabbed the condom, slowly grinning and leaning back as she rolled it down over his cock. “Fuck yes,” he murmured, shifting to place his feet down against the sofa, his hands moving to her hips.

That was the best thing about fucking your best friend; they know everything you like and vice versa. She knew the right way to roll her hips, the dirty words to whisper in his ear, but she always switched it up a little, just so it didn't get stale. Seb's hands on her hips spurned her on a little as she hovered over his cock, small hand wrapped around the base, teasing him.

Sebastian groaned again, lifting his hips up slightly, his hands smoothing up her sides and back over her hips. “You’re so hot,” he whispered, his eyes dark. They knew each other’s bodies so well at this point that they both knew exactly what the other wanted, and it was a large reason Sebastian continued the fwb arrangement they had. People often said how sex ruined friendships, but if anything it only made Sebastian and Santana closer.

She smirked at his comment approvingly, he knew exactly what to say to butter her up. Pleased with his words and feeling like she'd tortured him just the right amount, she finally sank down on his cock, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the sensation of being utterly filled. She stilled her movements for a moment, allowing her body to get used to the feeling. Sebastian not only exuded big dick energy, he had the goods to back it up too.

Sebastian’s head fell back and he groaned once more as she sank down over him, his hands tightening on her hips. He stayed still for a moment though, knowing she’d move when she was ready. “‘Feel so good,” he whispered breathily, his lips parted as he looked up at her.

Satisfied, she began to roll her hips against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, face buried into his shoulder as she let out soft groans at the sensation. Without even trying, he reached that sweet spot inside of her. Every time she thrust her hips against his, she could feel her fingertips start to tingle. "Fuck, so full," she breathed into his skin.

Sebastian gasped, rocking his hips up to meet hers, his hands sliding up her sides, pulling her down to kiss her messily, groaning into her mouth. He pulled back briefly, grinning slightly as he sat up, his arm winding around her waist, continuing to thrust his hips up into her.

If sex with anyone else was good, sex with Sebastian was practically god tier. He was an arrogant prick but god, he could back it up completely. She never could last very long when she was on top, not with the way she rolled her hips smoothly and how he thrust from underneath. She tangled her fingers in the back of his hair and gave a sharp tug, smirking as she did.

Sebastian moaned as she pulled at his hair, tilting his head back but his eyes staying on her, lips parted as he panted softly. “Fuck, Tana,” he groaned, his nails scraping down her back slightly, thrusting up faster.

Falling apart in Sebastian's lap was one of her favourite things in the entire world. Her thighs tightened against his involuntarily, as her moans echoed around the living room, her thrusts going from smooth and measured to erratic and frantic. Another tug of his hair and thrust upwards from him and she was coming, hard.

Sebastian gasped, thrusting up harder, losing his rhythm a little as he felt his stomach tightening. When he felt her tense and come he couldn’t hold back any longer, coming hard suddenly and moaning out her name.

She rocked her hips against his slowly, riding them both through their respective orgasms. She slumped against his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat thud away in his chest. She didn't make any effort to move straight away, body twitching as the aftershocks ran through her. She pressed a kiss to his temple and smoothed down the back of his hair. "You're so fucking good at that," she murmured.

Sebastian relaxed back against the pillows of the sofa, his arms loosening around her, head tilting back as he closed his eyes. He smiled widely, lazily, humming at that. “You’re pretty good yourself, gorgeous,” he murmured.

She kissed him on the temple again, before she sat back on his lap, groaning at the sensation of him still inside her overly sensitive pussy. "We're good at it," she agreed, before she stood up, disentangling her sweaty limbs from his. Her thighs were slick from her arousal but she felt too lazy to take a shower, so she grabbed her underwear and his shirt, haphazardly pulling them on before flopping down next to him on the couch. "Wanna finish the film?" she asked.

Sebastian breathed out as she pulled off, lying back and not even grabbing his underwear yet. He tugged the condom off slowly and tied it, holding it up to her with a grimace, “Wanna put this in the bin first?”

She went to bite back but instead took the condom from him, wrinkling her nose at the wetness. She turned on her heel, "lazy prick," she muttered as she walked to the kitchen and disposed of it in the trash can. She washed her hands then grabbed a couple of glasses and the open bottle of bourbon that was sitting out on the counter. "Don't say i'm not good to you, Seb," she teased, as she sat back down next to him.

Sebastian just grinned as she took it, moving now to grab his underwear, tugging it on before settling back on the sofa. He glanced up as she returned, “So good to me, babe,” he murmured, moving to take the bottle and pouring them both a glass. “The dream,” he said, lifting his glass to clink against Santana’s.

She smiled knowingly, as they clinked their glasses together. Fumbling around with her free hand, she located the television remote from down the side of the cushions and put the film back a little. "So, satisfy my curiosity. What were your choices earlier, during fuck, marry, kill? Tell me I was right."

Sebastian leant back, placing his feet on the coffee table, sliding his arm down the back of the sofa. He glanced at her as she asked that, sighing and shrugging, too chilled out after his orgasm to actually care about that anymore. “Yes, you were right.”

She curled into him, eyes on the screen in front of them, free hand tracing patterns up his smooth, unblemished thigh. She didn't really care about the game they were playing but she always liked to know when she was right about something. "Good to know," she hummed, a little smugly.

“Because seriously, who would wanna fuck Finn?” he said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Santana, sipping at his drink, apparently still not completely over that.

She rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't turn to look at him. "Why not?" she asked, fingertips toying with the rim of the glass.

“He just looks like he’s bad in bed,” he murmured, glancing at her again. “Why do you find him attractive?”

She shook her head at his comment, finally tilting her face to look at him. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a generous gulp of the amber liquid, as she considered his question. Why was she currently interested all of a sudden? "I don't know. He's sweet. Besides, who says I'm going to fuck him, hm?" she countered.

“Since when are you into ‘sweet’ guys?” he pushed, “If you were into sweet guys you’d be fucking mr jaw line who’s always following you around.”

"Are you high?" she asked, a little incredulously, as he snapped at her. This was completely out of the ordinary. "Wait - are you jealous?"

Sebastian huffed slightly, “No I’m not high, or jealous, c’mon. What does Finn have that I don’t have ten times better? There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

"Then what the fuck is this?" she gestured at him, dark eyes trained on his. She would have laughed out loud if she didn't think that it would make things worse. "It's not about anything you have or he has, it was a joke, mi amor."

Sebastian bit his lip, not sure why he’d got caught up on that, sitting back and staying quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. Sorry,” he murmured, his head ducked as he ran a hand through his hair.

The room fell silent for a moment, the television was the only thing making any noise as she watched him curiously. She had really gotten under his skin with this one. Part of her wanted to push, the other part didn't want to annoy him further. Of course the former won out. "Seriously, what's going on?" she asked.

Sebastian shook his head, “Nothing,” he replied, although a part of him knew he was lying. “Nothing’s going on.”

She laced her fingers through his and squeezed softly. They weren't just friends who had sex, they were best friends. Which meant that she could read him like a book. "It's not nothing, I have way more stamina than you, so you might as well just tell me what's going on," she offered with a slight shrug of her shoulder.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, glancing down at their hands, not sure why he had turned things so sour suddenly, he’d been so blissed out only a few moments ago. “I don’t know! Maybe I just thought if anyone is gonna pick me it’d be you.”

"I'll always pick you," she murmured, "hence why i'm here, with you and not with him." She brushed the pad of her thumb over the back of his hand. She felt her stomach twist a little with what she assumed was guilt. "I'm sorry."

Sebastian’s shoulders sank slightly, “No, it doesn’t matter,” he murmured, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair, eyes moving back to the tv.

"Seb..." she pleaded. This was the weirdest situation that she had been in with him. If not jealousy, then what was this? He must know, deep down, she would always pick him. They were best friends and sometimes it felt like he was her only friend. Sighing, she knew when to stop pushing him. A little defeated and hurt, she settled her own hands on her lap.

Sebastian leant back, his foot tapping unconsciously, sighing, “I don’t believe in soulmates, you know that,” he murmured. “But what if you do? It’s not like you think I’m your soulmate, even if we joke about it.”

She felt her eyebrows lift at his statement. Why did everything in the entire world come back to this bullshit? "You're the closest thing that i'm going to get to a soulmate," she shot back instantly. "You know I don't care about that shit and let's get real, if they did exist, Finn would not be my soulmate, or Aubrey, or any of those idiots."

Sebastian wasn’t the kind to get attached, like ever. But his relationship with Santana was different. It was built on friendship, and he was genuinely worried about losing her. He sighed, glancing at her now. “Sorry,” he said, feeling like an idiot. “I know. I’m being an idiot.”

She shook head head at him gently, before nudging his arm to let her back in. Their relationship wasn't conventional, but she'd never really considered the prospect of Sebastian finding his soulmate and stopping whatever they had going on. Now, it was weighing on her mind. "You're not being an idiot, I get it," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. "I love you, Seb. You're my best friend."

Sebastian tilted his head, his arm falling around her, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. “You’re my best friend too,” he murmured, holding her close again. “And I love you,” he continued, stroking his hand down her arm gently. “Guess I’m just letting people get into my head. Soulmates are bullshit. We have a good thing, and we’re not.”

She kissed him back sweetly, savouring the quiet, real moments that they had together. This was the shift that had been happening in their relationship, their friendship. The rare moments they acted like an actual couple and the layers of snark and bitchyness were forgotten. "Who's been getting in that big ol' brain of yours?" she asked curiously.

“I dunno, I was talking to Jesse and he kept saying how Quinn was definitely his soulmate,” he murmured, pulling Santana into his lap, “And like, he doesn’t really know that. I guess I just started thinking about it. Maybe too much.”

She let out a sigh, of course it was Jesse. He'd gotten in her head too about it. She settled comfortably into his lap, "unsurprisingly, he got to me about it too," she confessed, thinking back to their conversation through text. "I mean how do they even know they're soulmates? It's a stupid concept and I don't like the idea. I always feel that no one decides my fate but me."

Sebastian wound both his arms around her, meeting her eyes. “They don’t. Pretty sure they haven’t even got a ‘bond’ or anything.” He nodded, “But me too. I don’t like the idea of something else deciding who I’m ‘meant to be with’. It’s stupid.”

She nodded in agreement. "I'm fairly certain that neither of them would shut the fuck up about it if they had one," she chuckled, knowing both halves of the couple. It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room but she was an expert at burying feelings and pretending they didn't exist. "So let's not let them decide for us," she mused aloud, before tilting his face up towards hers with his index finger and pressing a searing kiss on his lips.

Sebastian looked at her as she tilted his head toward her, smiling against her lips and lifting a hand to cup her cheek as he kissed back. “Mhm, okay,” he murmured softly, before continuing to kiss her, deepening it as his hand slid into her hair.

It was a tried, tested and almost always, foolproof method to get either of them out of a slump; more sex. She sighed happily into his lips, one hand rubbing at his neck, the other was trailing down his chest, fingernails dragging down his skin.

Sebastian leant back into the sofa, his hands smoothing up her back underneath her shirt, groaning quietly against her lips. Despite having just had sex, he wasn’t going to say no. This was just how they worked.

This was what the drinking and the fucking was for; to forget. To pretend like their momentary blip of emotion hadn't actually happened, that they were just simply two people who liked good sex and a lot of it. She lifted his shirt over her head and tossed it back to the floor, relishing his touch on her bare skin.

Sebastian moved to push her back to lie down, settling over her as he kissed her slowly. He slid his hands up her side again, turning his head to kiss under her jaw.

She shifted from his lap and laid back on the couch, spreading her legs to let him settle between them more comfortably. She brushed her fingers through his hair and ghosted her other hand across his shoulder, shivering as he placed soft kisses down her neck.

“Should we move to the bedroom,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow as he pulled back and smirked, tilting his head, his hand moving down her chest.

Santana nodded, a little breathlessly. It was getting late and Quinn would no doubt be home soon. She didn't think that her roommate would appreciate walking in on them screwing on the couch. She lifted her glass to her mouth and finished off the bourbon, before grabbing their clothes from the floor. "C'mon," she whispered, "you can show me how much you don't want to lose me through there." She gave his arm a sharp tug, leading them through the apartment and to her bedroom, closing the door on whatever doubts either of them had about the future.

[canimal]

Why do you think it is that so many people distort the actual canon characterization of characters so much? Like you've pointed out with how many people ignore how much Hermione cries. Why do you think people want to replace a more relatable, human Hermione with a super-human perfect one that's less relatable?

Ooh, excellent question!  I think, first of all, we can’t ignore what atrocities the Harry Potter movies committed.  I’m sorry, but I loathe the movies.  The casting was terrible on sooooooooooo many characters.  I’ll never forgive them for aging Lily and James Potter to middle-age just so it wouldn’t be so traumatic that such young people died.  Umm, pretty sure it’s almost exclusively young people who die fighting in wars.  And as much as I might have loved Alan Rickman, I’m sorry, but he was about 30 years too old to play Snape.  Snape died when he was only 38.   And the way that the movies absolutely demolished Ron’s character just so Hermione could get his best lines and come off as perfect?  🤬🤬🤬 Don’t even get me started on that.  Ron is the character I identify with the most, so it infuriates me to see how his character was butchered.  Nothing against Rupert Grint.  He’s adorable, but the writers did no favors to his character.  (And you should’ve seen the heated arguments @freyaishtar, @kittenshift-17 and I have gotten into about Emma Watson as an actress.  Trust me. They weren’t pretty.  All three of us have very definite opinions about her.  I love you, @freyaishtar. 😉) 

So when you factor in an alarming number of people have never read the books and only seen the poor excuses for movies, it’s not real any wonder that they expect Hermione to be a completely different character than she actually is.  The movies took away all of the imperfections that made her who she was just to turn her into an annoying Mary Sue with all of the answers and only slightly imperfect hair.  (Don’t get me started on how they f@#%#@ up her hair! 🤬) Then you have fan fiction stories where she is All-Knowing, All-Powerful, All-Seeing, Wanted-By-All-Boys which only make it even worse.  There are some insanely popular stories in the fandom where she is just unbelievably powerful and I think that that creates an unrealistic measure of who she is as a person, especially if a reader has never read the books.  (Which I will NEVER understand!) Some people, especially when they’re quite young as so many are in this fandom, seem to believe that good people don’t have flaws.  That somehow only bad people make mistakes or have weaknesses or can be super unlikable. So if a character is supposed to be “good” they can only be good if they’re perfect.  That’s a lesson that they’ll learn as they grow up.  We are all imperfect. We all fuck up.  It doesn’t mean we are bad people.  Of course we should always strive to improve but we will never be perfect.   I’ve been told over and over again since I returned to the fandom three years ago that lots of readers don’t want to read realistic stories.  They’ve told me that they don’t like how I write realistic situations and realistic characters instead of writing “Happily Ever After” fluff pieces where no one ever makes a mistake because they’re trying to escape from reality when they read.  That’s fine.  We can all enjoy our hobby how we wish as long as we don’t attack others for liking it just a little bit differently.  Personally, I find Mary Sue Hermione insanely boring and I loathe fluffy stories where there’s no angst or drama, but it’s fine if other people want to escape into a fantasy world they enjoy.  Just as long as they don’t ask me to tag along or whine in my story reviews that my characters are too flawed. 

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

Am I the only one who's horny for podcasts?

May is National Masturbation Month, and we're celebrating with Feeling Yourself, a series exploring the finer points of self-pleasure.

He murmurs into your ear, his voice as soft as it is authoritative. Dazed, you don't quite hear what he's saying, but it sounds imploring, urgent — making your heart beat quicker, breath heavy, lips part. 

This isn't a sexual encounter. It's a podcast. Dan Carlin's Hardcore History to be exact. And I'm horny for it.

It's about time we all acknowledged the unspoken eroticism of podcasts (at least, certain types of them).

For enthusiasts, podcasters whisper into our ears with honey-smooth voices on a weekly if not daily basis. (Oh, don't worry, we'll get to Michael Barbaro.) As we lay in our beds alone at night, they come with us, that soothing and familiar cadence washing over us, melting the day away until it's just us ... and that voice. Podcasters are also our constant companions, drowning out the noise and stress of daily routines, turning morning commutes into immersive journeys through sumptuous soundscapes of storytelling.

For the incurably perverted like myself, they can be a wake up call to the wondrous and under-explored world of audio porn. (Apologies to the hardworking creators who may never see their work the same way, but your content is definitely serving us in more ways than one 😉.)

Everyone trying to pretend like podcasts don't get them hot.

Image: vicky leta / mashable 

The rise of the aural fixation

Those who've felt even the slightest titillation from that "aural fixation" are probably relieved to hear they're not alone. A majority of you, however, most likely feel a bit disgusted to discover that rule #34 even infects the wholesome realm of podcasting.

But inarguably, there is a unique and unmatched intimacy embedded into the medium. For more people than you imagine, that makes podcasts the perfect avenue for a more humanized and personal type of masturbation. Both in terms of everyday podcasts and those purposefully trying to get you off.

"Being able to use your imagination to fill in the blanks can be incredibly sexy when many people are used to seeing porn that looks a certain way," said Girl On The Net, a pseudonym for the sex blogger whose dulcet British tones voice some of the most popular auditory erotica on the web.

@HardcoreHistory so glad to hear your sexy voice after 2 endless months of waiting💀💉

— echo (@Alanood504) January 14, 2013

In the same way that some of us are auditory rather than visual learners, some of us are hornier for aural rather than visual porn. It's a small, but growing niche. For Girl on the Net, that's evident in how traffic to her audio porn page nearly doubled over the last year.

SEE ALSO: Podcasts were my friends when I had none

"I think people are becoming much more aware that tube sites aren’t the only place to go to get your rocks off — and I hope many are realizing tube sites aren’t the most ethical place to get your rocks off either," she said, referring to porn sites that host user generated content.

Phoebe Judge's voice is super hot. Inviting but authoritarian, a little hoarse.

— madeleine (@parietines) December 16, 2017

On subreddits alone, there are roughly 276,000 subscribers to r/gonewildaudio (for naughty recordings of yourself), 20,000 on r/GonewildAudible (for more general erotic audio needs), 25,200 on r/pillowtalkaudio (for erotic amateur recordings with consenting partners), and 68,000 on r/nsfwasmr (for sexualized ASMR, which used to be a popular tumblr, too). Similarly, there's a whole subgenre of erotic podcasts recorded with the intent of getting you off, and literotica has an entire subsection for audio. 

People are even starting to monetize on the phenomenon, including a recent app called Dipsea that hosts erotic audio stories catered to millennial women. "It’s perfect for storytelling, it’s intimate, and it’s incredibly imaginative," said Dipsea cofounder and CEO, Gina Gutierrez. "Listening to Dipsea you can feel like the voyeur, or you can become the character."

Even harder core history

I don't know when I first realized certain podcasts (always a solo host or narrator, so panel podcasters are safe) did it for me. But I remember the exact moment I discovered a voice could bring me to near orgasm, despite not having the words or understanding to know what was actually happening. 

I was watching the first Harry Potter movie in the theater, and Professor Severus Snape (played by the late, great Alan Rickman) was delivering his now iconic first year speech on the, "subtle science and exact art of potion-making." A mounting quiver ran down my spine when his tongue clung to each curve of every "s" sound in the phrase "ensnare the senses."

Snape later became the fictional man who guided me through my early sexual awakening, a fantasy that I could control through my imagination while losing myself to these newfound uncontrollable urges. A reoccurring scenario involved being blind-folded, leaving me in total sensory deprivation but for the sound of his silky voice, low and measured, describing everything he wanted to do to me.

Again, with sincerest apologies to Mr. Carlin, I was instantly brought back to those fantasies when I first started listening to Hardcore History.

The perfect boyfriend is the kind that stops talking when you press a button.

Image: vicky leta / mashable

It's not about what he's saying because, no, I do not get off to visceral descriptions of the greatest human atrocities ever recorded by man. Actually, for the process to work, the volume must be low enough for me to hear his impassioned teacherly intonations, but not so loud that I can't replace whatever he's talking about with what I actually want to hear instead. (In my defense, I do also go back and listen for the purpose of learning, too.)

To my relief, I found that I was't alone in having the hots for pods, but also that others are specifically attracted to the idea of a scholarly, silky voice teaching you things. 

"I have a huge crush on a guy who does a politics podcast I listen to a lot," said Girl on the Net, not wishing to call out a specific name (though notably, Dan Carlin also has a political podcast). "There’s something intensely hot about listening to someone more knowledgeable than me discuss a subject I’m interested in. Why else would so many people crush on teachers? You’re definitely not alone in this!"

NPR's podcasting hosts running away from our thirst.

Image: vicky leta / mashable 

That also tracks with the trend of an increasing amount of people identifying as sapiosexual (someone physically aroused by intelligence). Maybe our hankering for podcasters comes down to the fact that nerds are in. And there's no bigger concentration of nerds than in podcasts.

To be fair, those who know me know that there is little in this world I can't find a way to sexualize. To be fairer to me, though, there does seem to be an underlying sensuality — or at the very least admission to intense emotional relationships — in even the most platonic explanations of podcasting's appeal.

A very unsexy (but fascinating) New Yorker article called it a "peculiarly intimate medium," further noting that, "for a digital medium, podcasts are unusual in their commitment to a slow build, and to a sensual atmosphere." NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour podcaster Glen Weldon even admitted to his own discomfort and revery for the one-way intimacy in our relationships to podcasters, equating binge-listening to nothing short of falling in love. 

Perhaps nobody embodies the intense emotional connection podcasting can inspire more than the New York Times' Michael Barbaro. In a way, he feels like everybody's dream boyfriend: reliable, smart, useful, engaging, able to fit in your pocket — and you can turn him off whenever you've had enough of him.

The indisputable soft-spoken King of Podcasting, a New Yorker profile positively dripping with erotic subtext wrote that, "It’s hard to resist the empathetic vocables with which Barbaro punctuates his interviewees’ words," later describing this as a, "quasi-therapeutic aural hovering."

[INT. BAR — NIGHT] HER: so do you have a name ME: from The New York Times I'm Michael Barbaro

— Liam Weir (@liamrweir) July 31, 2017

What they're talking about is his tendency to interject emphatic, often prolonged hmms during interviews, to vocalize his engagement with what his guest is saying. It's such an endearing and recognizable quirk that it now have its own Twitter fan page, which Barbaro actually follows. 

Generally, he seems to be a man who accepts that this vocal tick touches on a particular nerve that people either love or hate. As another Twitter user begged, "Please please please do not stop the hmmmm!"

Not only seen, but heard

Despite its seeming perversion, though, the sexual attraction to podcasts and auditory erotica comes from a pretty wholesome place. 

I'm listening to the do not disturb podcast with @itsarifitz and I'm realizing, women with SEXY ASS VOICES ARE MY FUCKING TYPE. Help. Me. -L

— LauRapsody (@LauRapsody) May 8, 2017

In large part, it's about feeling like you know the person whispering into your ear like a lover. If the eyes are a window into the soul, then maybe the voice is like a sonic radar for the soul. There are so many human imperfections in your speech pattern, your personality embedded into every lilt, unspoken emotions communicated through each prolonged pause or sudden exclamation.

The best way to describe the vastly different experience between masturbating to visual rather than auditory porn is the difference between anonymous sex versus sex with a significant other.

Audio porn is also a more non-threatening outlet for masturbation, since the visual porn on tube sites often feels intimidatingly aggressive and catered only to heteronormative male desires. 

The visual medium in itself limits you to a more external masturbatory experience, as you shut off your brain and consume other people as sex objects. But as a medium closer to literary erotica (or often an aural version of it), audio invites you to imagine rather than tell you what to like. 

"Of all the audio I’ve made so far, the stuff that seems to get the strongest reaction is when it's framed as 'you.' Instead of 'I did this, he did that' it’s 'you did this to me,'” said Girl on the Net, pointing to this specific example. "Again, it’s focusing on the intimacy — making people feel like they’re a part of something. As if it’s happening to them in the moment."

SEE ALSO: Why notification sounds send you emotionally reeling into the past

Also, she said, "most of my sex stories are true, which I think gives them an immediacy and intimacy off the bat."

In essence, audio porn relies on a more direct relationship between you and what's bringing you to climax.

"All sorts of complicated questions go through your mind when you’re watching visual porn," said Gutierrez, the Dipsea cofounder. "Is she actually feeling pleasure? Is this ethically created? What creepy Airbnb is this happening in? You’re also removed from the action, and are distracted by the things that you don’t relate to — like other people’s (often unrealistic) bodies."

Press play with me

The aural has an innately human power over us all. Before there was video, before there was picture, before there was written word, we knew each other by sound. As a collective, we told our first stories through the oral tradition. As individuals, we were first introduced to other human beings by hearing our mother's voice from inside her belly.

Whisk us off to sleep, Podcasting Daddies.

Image: bob al greenE / mashable 

The common adage that the brain is the largest sexual organ is unmistakably at play in aural erotica. Yet unlike purely text-based erotica, the humanizing addition of another person's voice is one of the only ways to make masturbation feel less solitary. 

Aural erotica is the best of all worlds when it comes to spank bank material: more personal, inclusive, approachable, ethical, and exploratory than visual porn — yet also more sensorily engaging than just textual porn. 

Maybe you still think we're just a minority of weirdos. But in my humble opinion, I think maybe I'm just one of a few willing to admit in plain speak that we're all a little horny for Michael Barbaro's voice.

WATCH: Consent-oriented condom packaging says four hands are needed to open it, but then again – maybe not

[badwolf1988-blog]

Winter Snow: Chapter Fifteen

Author’s Note: Yes, a lot of native Hawaiians believe that it is unlucky to take lava rocks away from the islands. Bad luck is said to befall those who do take rocks home with them from Hawaii. Mauna Kea actually receives hundreds of returned rocks by mail every year from tourists that are experiencing bad luck after taking them. It is called the Curse of Pele. Look it up. Even if you DON’T believe in curses, it is extremely disrespectful to Hawaiian culture to take lava rocks or sand from the islands...so, please don’t do it.

“Will you marry me, Winter?”

Very slowly, I sat up to look at him. The steering wheel was now jabbing me in the spine but I was too stunned to care.

“You can’t be serious.” I shook my head.

“Why not?” He challenged.

He looked as relaxed as could be, reclined in his seat.

“We’re not ready.” I shook my head again.

He actually had to nerve to smirk at me. When the hell had my boyfriend become Draco Malfoy? Wait a minute...that explained everything! The Chapmans were really the Malfoy family using polyjuice potion! After Voldemort was defeated, they fled the wizarding world because everyone wanted to kill them.

“Sorry, Luna...but no. I think my family is screwed up enough all on its own, thanks.”

Fuck! I needed to get help. The thinking out loud shit really needed to stop.

“Why? I think it’s cute.”

Double fuck!

“And we are ready to get married.” Dakota brought the conversation back on track. “We already live like man and wife. We get up in the morning and you make breakfast while I take care of Granger and Malfoy. We take turns cleaning and cooking. We go grocery shopping together. Every week on payday, we sit down and budget our money together...speaking of wifely behavior...I’m pretty sure the only reason my parents know I’m alive half the time is because you make a point of calling every week and checking in. I haven’t signed a birthday or get well card since November because you do it for me. You haven’t shoveled snow or filled your own gas tank in just as long. This is all the behavior of an already married couple.”

Not once during his entire speech did he even lift his head.

“We’re too young! You just turned twenty-two and I’m only nineteen! A teenager!” I continued to argue as the steering wheel continued to dig into my back.

“Lily Potter was only eighteen when she married James Potter. By the time she was your age, she was already pregnant with Harry.” That damn Malfoy smirk was back on his face. “Severus Snape was only twenty-one when Lily died and he pledged his life to fighting the Dark Lord and keeping her son safe. Age is a state of mind and what you make it. It only matters if you let it matter.”

Damn him! He had (accurately) used Harry Potter against me!

“Dakota, you’re only asking because you’re pissed off at your grandpa.”

It was the last negative argument that I had even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t true. Why was I fighting this so hard? Why did I have to be the patronus to the dementor of my own happiness? When I thought of my future, Dakota was always the husband that I saw by my side. My imaginary children all had his dark brown, almond shaped eyes. Why was I letting my age hold me back?

Dakota reached up a hand and ran it over his face before he huffed, “Look in the glove compartment. That’s where Dad said he hid it.”

Curiously, and with a great deal of contorting myself in directions I wasn’t meant to go, I leaned over and opened the glove compartment. Shifting aside some insurance papers, I found...a ring box.

Picking it up, almost like it was made of glass, I moved back to my position straddling Dakota’s lap and just stared at the box.

“Open it,” He bounced his lap one time to get my attention.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the lid...and found the weirdest looking ring that I have ever seen. The silver band was inlaid with some kind of wood and there were three stones - a large diamond in the center, flanked by two smaller diamonds.

“The band is made with Hawaiian koa wood.” He explained. “I knew you wouldn’t want a traditional ring so I had this made. This way you could always carry a little piece of the islands we came from. I had thought about a lava stone...but I was scared of pissing off Pele.”

I couldn’t have held back the tears if I had tried. One minute, I was trying to think of any excuse I could to get out of marrying Dakota, the next I’m sobbing harder than when I found out Alan Rickman died.

“Damn, baby, come here.” He took the ring box from my hand and set it on the passenger seat before pulling me down to lay against his chest as he wrapped his well-muscled arms around me. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Winter.” He dropped a kiss to my forehead. “I just wanted you to know that I was already thinking about marrying you. A friend of Jamie’s made the ring and I was going to ask you on your birthday. I even have you dad’s permission.”

“I’m not mad at you and you didn’t upset me. I’m just made at myself.” I admitted as my tears continued to flow all over his nice blue dress shirt.

“Why are you mad at yourself, sweetie?” He ran a hand up and down my neck and my tears slowly started to ease up.

“Because I know you’re right. We pretty much are already married.” I spoke into his shirt as a few tears still managed to escape. “Even our parents know we are meant to be together. When I think of our future...I see us married. I see a bunch of kids driving me crazy as I homeschool them. I want to marry you. The only reason I’m saying no is because I’m worried about the rest of the world...a world that’s never accepted me. I’m letting what society thinks control me. That’s why I’m mad at myself.”

“This is your chance to break the hold that society has on you.” He held me tight and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Say, ‘fuck the world’ and marry me, Winter.”

I broke out of the hold that he had on me and sat up so I could look him in the eyes.

“Yes,” I nodded.

I went to reach for the ring but Dakota already had it in his hand and was removing my Claddagh ring and replacing it with koa ring.

I moved the Claddagh ring to my right hand before leaning down for a kiss.

“I love you, Winter.” He whispered against my lips when we parted for air.

“I love you, Dakota,” I responded, suddenly wishing that the two of us were in a locked room with a box of condoms and a bed.

“You know the beach is deserted and there’s a blanket in the backseat.” He must have read my mind but we still had a problem.

“We don’t have any condoms, baby.” I groaned.

I really needed to go on the pill.

“I’m willing to take the chance if you are.” He shrugged.

“Dakota, this is a gamble where if we lose...we end up with a baby...as in another human being we would be responsible for.” I pointed out the obvious. “Once again, I will point out...you are twenty-two and I’m only nineteen.”

“I wouldn’t think of a baby with the woman I love as losing.” Dakota shook his head. “I’d think if it as a blessing. Money wouldn’t be a problem. My brief stint on reality TV paid pretty well and I have my trust fund from my dad. Your parents pay us more than the living wage and we barely have any expenses living on resort property. We could easily afford to remodel the second bedroom in the cabin to turn it into a nursery. Your mom would be over the moon to have a grandkid and would give both of us plenty of time off.” He had clearly thought about this before. “And who cares how old we are? Lily Potter had Harry when she was twenty. Princess Diana was twenty when she had Prince William. My mom was eighteen when she had me. Are you going to let society say when we can have a baby?”

Well, when he put it that way, it made me want to try and have his baby. Me being me...I told him so.

“I’m game, Winter.” He reached up and cupped my cheek. “I really don’t want to wait if you don’t. I want to be a dad. I want to make you a mom.”

I almost started crying again. How did I get lucky enough to find the Harry to my Ginny?

“Can we get married this summer? Here on the islands?” I asked.

Hawaii was a spiritual place. The place that we had both taken our first breaths. Our first steps had been taken on Hawaiian soil. The everlasting symbol of our love that Dakota had just placed on my finger was a piece of Hawaii herself. It was only right that our marriage start in this beautiful, magical place.

“Of course we can, sweetie.” He ran a hand through my hair. “This is where I was hoping to marry you.”

“I want to have your baby,” I told him as I caught his hand and kissed the palm. “Not because we don’t have a condom. I want to keep trying after tonight. I want a family with you...only with you.”

He pulled me down and kissed me hard.

“I’ll grab the blanket...hop up.” He lightly smacked my ass when we parted.

CHAPTER INDEX