#christina rants

[fandomohana]

Vent below the break.

I just want to primal scream. I want someone to take care of me. I want to go ape shit with no consequences. I just want to let it all out in a Vesuvius-esque fashion, without worrying about the proverbial Pompeians.

I have to ask again, why am I writing? Why am I trying? It's not for me. I can play with my stories in my head, and be completely content. I started writing, because I thought people were looking for things like this, because I was. I agonize over every piece, I watch, and rewatch to get dialogue correct. I freaking research how houses are set up, to get the details JUST right. I use extant images to get the details JUST right. I stress, I agonize, I force myself not to give up, just to post, and see something with no grammar, no punctuation. Written in all lower case, no imagery, basically just a porno transcribed into a word document, and slapped on here, with 60,000 notes in ten minutes. Then I watch the stuff I agonized over, tried so hard to do, felt so freaking proud of, because ideas just don't come to me anymore...it just rots with a handful of interactions over the course of months.

No one cares about my new oneshot. No one interacts with me, unless I'm going ape shit. I share my heart, I share things I'm proud of, and just like the rest of my life, it's not good enough.

I had so many ideas when I was younger, but depression, anxiety, rejection, has just destroyed it.

I go out of my way to word things gently, to be soft, to encourage everyone, to make sure no one feels alienated...but the world just stomps over me with muddy boots.

My anxiety is out of control, I'm trying not to cry, my stomach has hurt for weeks now, my chest is tight, the house is a disaster, I've wasted another week, and I just can't. I'm so damn tired...I literally get up, stay awake an hour or so, eat, sleep, wake up, stay up a few hours, do chores, and sleep, then I'm up until 3am, and repeat the process.

But I'm a self aware Lego, as my dear friend called me. I fall down, I shatter, then I pull myself back together, and move on until the next break.

Now to force myself to stay awake, because I just want to sleep right now.

[junos-ocean-galaxy]

Regulus: sweet

Barty: sugar

Evan: candy man

[fandomohana]

Louder, for the ones in back!

Now my ongoing series is self indulgent, I say that on basically every chapter, and reader is Dustin's bio sister, which makes it more rigid. BUT I never mention hair length, hair color, eye color, height, clothes, freckles. There will be mention of stretch marks, cause she is plus size, but I try to keep her neutral. And in future reader inserts, as long as they aren't bio related, they will remain even more neutral, to allow more people to feel represented.

I don't even really describe her clothes in the series! The first chapter I do, and I put a disclaimer saying, you can't tell me Eddie wouldn't remember what she wore, the first time he saw her. Otherwise, I'll say jeans, and a tshirt, or jeans and a blouse, and leave it there. I have legit stopped reading fics that put reader in a thong, cause. That's. Not. Me. It's so much easier to just leave shit neutral, seriously.

I've read too damn many reader inserts that pull me out of the story with specific descriptions that don't fit me.

love when I’m reading reader insert fics and the author is so clearly white and and doesn’t make an effort to create non-descriptive characters.

“you pulled your hair back, tendrils of hair framing your face” besties that won’t work for 4c hair!!!

pls make an effort to consider the reader as not white when creating stories!!

[xo-zozo]

that one time me and three of some of my best friends all read love & other words by christina lauren and annotated in different colors

[a-moral-orel-blog]

Hoi! Here is me trying to figure out how to draw Orel and Christiana. I leaned for a wider face for Christiana while I tried more box like proportions for orel. I'm not sure how much I like it, but it's ok.

Next is a more Gothic outfit for Christiana, or at least an eary stage one. I've heard of the idea of Christiana's Nature episodes being called Nuture. I've not put much thought into it, but it could be a mother daughter trip where Poppit shows her some base things for being a "perfect housewife."

The entire time, Christina is more interested in reading or perhaps doing some schoolwork. Poppit dislikes how Christiana is disinterested in what she is being shown. Yada Yada. At one point, Christiana asks what if she doesn't want to be a housewife, but build a career. Cue rant from Poppit about how men need women to take care of them(parallel to Clays rant)(kinda).

Not sure what happens from here or how I got so off topic. Back to the drawing.

After the events of that trip, she tries to distance herself from what her mom wants her to be. Her outfit, while not colored, is a black dress Christiana had from some event, with a cheap tee shirt over it, a black belt from her father's room, several necklaces she had gathered, and some winter boots she had lying around. Her style will evolve as she grows. But I wanted to make a first outfit.

And the last image of the day is, of course, of Orel. Like Christiana, he uses the Goth culture as a way to assert control of his life. After season 3, his faith in his parents, the people of Morelton, and God shatters. He loses hope for a while. One day, Stephenie shows introduces him to some of her Goth friends, and he is absolutely interested in learning more. Stephenie and her friend introduce him to the music, the fashion, and the community. Where God was once an escape, now he has Stephenie and her friends to escape.

I still think Orel would believe in God, even if his faith waivers. Perhaps Orel could meet Christians outside of Morelton and see their is a huge multitude of ways to have religion in one's life. However, his Goth phase could help him gain a new community of people to be a part of.

[khanumshahrzad]

Am i only one who got the vibe that Art Posabule is the typical controlling/posessive-of-daughter father, like at first appearance we see him dragging Christina to their house for no reason, probably because noticed Orel was looking at her, and if you ever experienced growing up as a little girl in a religious conservative household there's of course stupid restrictions especially about interacting with boys your age and socializing with certain people, everything would be dependent on the parents' approval and you'd not be given chance to express an opinion because you're a girl that doesn't know better and must be protected from outside society, that's what's different from being a boy in that situation, you wouldn't be told, you would be yanked and dragged out of things without any early explanation,

I think what makes me like christina's character so much that if we ever got episodes with her and her family, especially dynamic with her father, we'd see an exploration of growing up as a girl in a christian environment, that'd be so interesting and with a lot of people/girls being able to relate to it as well.

[ilovefredjones]

i love la’an so much

[sayhoneysiren]

۫ ☆ Aquarius SZN ★⊹

❖ Aquarius is a air element which means this season is collaborative and enlightening. 

Be willing to stand up for yourself and assert your power. At any moment, prepare to leave everything behind, once it is no longer serving you. There is a strong urge to make your own life, live your own truth and share your own personal beliefs with the world. By sharing your experiences with the world, you will find that many people all over the world are going through the same things as you. You are not alone. In certain situation you may find it easier to connect with outsiders, rather than your own family that you have outgrown. So, don't be afraid to walk the path alone until you find your place and your tribe.

read more join patreon

[abnormalnewt]

The Ballad of Anne and Mary - lesbian pirate podcast based on true stories. Excellent. Loved it. Great singing, sea shanties, cast is fabulous - the lot. Some bits of it were stressful and I could have done with a trigger warning, but as nothing came of it, I guess it’s ok.

They’ve given it a good ending, I’ll tell you right now.

I didn’t realize until today how deep the emotional scars are for all the times we, the lesbians of Gen X and before, were given the shit ending. The only ending we were allowed to have on TV or film or anything - the lesbians never rode off into the sunset. NEVER. Someone died, or left, or some other awful thing would put an end to it. And I’m really, really, slow because it took me hours mulling this over to realize that that’s my story too. It isn’t just Gabby losing Xena, or Will losing Tara, it’s me losing my wife too. It became personal and I just hadn’t added it up.

If you read about these pirate queens, you’ll see they got a shit ending, according to the people writing their history. I am so grateful that the people who put this podcast (whole ass production) together consciously chose to give them a good ending. I had no idea how much I needed that.

[heather-chandlers-weirder-cousin]

propaganda:

Charge’s nemesis: What can I say. They are the cause of frequent earthquakes across San Sobelle. They got butthurt Cory didn’t go to prom with them and became a supervillain about it. They might as well be an escape artist for all the times they’ve broken out of prison.

Harper’s bestie: she inherited her alter ego from her mom, who had powers. She does not. She’s just out there with a handgun and a little too much courage. The only place she’s spent more than year at a time defending is the reservation she was born on and she’s constantly moving around. She and Harper get in screaming matches constantly and declare their friendship over at least once a month.

[vancsssa]

god why can't i like characters a normal amount

[fandomohana]

Rant below the break, cause I don't want to dirty anyone's dash with my shit...

I'm just not doing okay. My memory is failing, I'm sleeping way too much, staying up too late. The house is just heinous, and I simply can't get up to fix it. I'm stressed about everything. Literally everything. I'm trying to balance myself, my mom, the house, my friends, and I can't do it. I'm at my wits end. I can't have fun anymore because my brain is always trying to remember what I'm forgetting. For fucks sake, I need to send a birthday card to the youngest from my first big girl job, I'm gonna be two months late, and on top of his older sister's February birthday. A fucking birthday card. A simple fucking check. I can't do it. No one is coming to save me, I'm on my own, I've always been on my own at the end of the day, and I think my reserves are gone. The loneliness hurts. But everyone has their struggles, so I shove the broken pieces into my little basket, and put it on the shelf for that mystical day when I have the energy to fix it. Along with the other shelves of stuff to do when my brain doesn't feel broken. I can't keep up. I'm not good at anything I do, I'm a ghost in people's lives, I'm just nothing, and useless. Cheers to more mediocrity, and becoming even more invisible.

[angieschiffahoi]

misty using fake grief to manipulate her teammates in order to save kristen’s body from being eaten vs using real grief to manipulate coach ben into not killing himself

am i really starting to like young misty?

[hanicchy]

watching grey’s anatomy for the first time and i don’t think i’ve ever hated a popular character more

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 14 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 15

You told Mrs George (or was it Ms George now? Too soon?) that you'd drive yourself to the school. Under no circumstance did you want to sit in close quarters to Regina. Besides, you knew she'd have to be there significantly earlier because she was performing. If the thought of being near Regina made you uncomfortable, that of being in that building made your skin crawl.

Why you were even bothering to go was beyond you. You'd been made into a laughing stock, a subject for people to talk about and twist around for the rest of the break. There was no PR response you could concoct to fix this, because for one, there was no time, and secondly nobody would want to hear it.

Maybe this wouldn't ruin your entire fucking life. Maybe you'd get over it eventually. Maybe it would all turn out fine. But it didn't feel like that. You could understand Regina more now, could see more clearly what she'd been talking about when she went on that rant.

Thinking all your problems would dissolve once you were old enough was stupid. That could only be applied to something vain, like pimples and pit stains and body odour. But issues like Regina's, utter self-hatred weaponized against society and everybody around her, and yours, chronic doormat syndrome with a side of people pleaser, could not just resolve. One could not pray the gay away, could not sweep it all under the rug.

You looked at the chicken sandwich in your hand. Mrs George had made some for lunch earlier and you'd swung by after the grocery trip to get you one. Then, she'd driven back to yours, helped you pack it all away, and made a weekly meal plan with you while you ate. It'd been nice. And the chicken sandwich was divine.

Your tummy was already full, but you didn't want to stop eating. You almost never got to really stuff yourself. The feeling of it was luxurious, though painful.

You put off going for as long as you could. You left at just the last minute, cutting it dangerously close. Didn't bother changing your clothes or anything. A hoodie and jeans, your usual jacket and scarf. By the time you arrived on the scene, the parking lot was pretty much deserted. You hustled to the gym where the thing was set up and easily found Mrs George and Kylie.

"C'mon, it's- it's- it's almost starting!" Kylie hissed at you, patting the seat next to her.

"Okay okay!" You whisper shouted back, mustering a little excitement for the little girl's sake.

Most of the performances were utterly dull. To be fair, the talent show was also an opportunity to get extra credit for some classes. Several people from your Spanish class took the stage. There was poetry and a couple songs, all mediocre at best. A pair performed a salsa number, which was surprising on two accounts. One, they were both dudes and two, they were good.

After Damien's dramatic rendition of Christina Aguilera's Beautiful, it was time for The Plastics to take the stage. Karen, Gretchen, and Cady were slowly revealed by the curtain. Cady stood front and centre, Gretchen to her left and Karen to the right.

Unlike many of the other dance performances of the night, the highlight was certainly not the choreography. The wow factor was hinged on the simple fact that it was them, specifically these girls, in latex, borderline slutty Santa costumes doing a provocative dance. The audience was not thrilled, the adults' reactions ranging from mildly uncomfortable to downright scandalized, while the other high schoolers looked on in either lust or disappointment that the act was missing the thing that had made it interesting in the first place.

Regina George had been the main attraction. Without her, without her effortless stage presence making the dance seem interesting, it was actually pretty embarrassing.

You had to look away when they started doing stunts. Karen went to the floor on all fours crab walk style, while Gretchen positioned herself behind her, and Cady geared up to- you couldn't watch. Suddenly, the music cut out and a heavy thump accompanied by someone's breath wooshing out of their lungs echoed through the gymnasium.

Kylie covered her mouth in a valiant effort not to laugh. You bumped your shoulder into hers. She bumped back. Mrs George had gasped and almost surged out of her seat. A beat of silence. Then, like water rippling, laughter began to bubble out of people.

You still couldn't watch. You could hear heels clicking on stage, groaning, and some frantic whispering. Kylie had tears in her eyes and her whole body was shaking.

"What's happening?" You whispered to her.

"Cady... She... Belly flopped the stage." She managed to get out before bursting into giggles.

"What? Is she, like, okay?"

"She's getting up. The principle's getting on stage." Kylie reported while you kept your eyes firmly on your lap. "He's gonna say something, oh, Gretchen's taking the mic-"

You had to look up when you heard your full name being spoken into the microphone, but regretted it as soon as Gretchen finished the sentence:

"-is a lesbian!" Quiet. Again.

You looked down so fast your neck cracked. Through the tinnitus in your ears, you could vaguely hear the principal admonishing Gretchen, the murmurs in the hall, their heels clicking off stage.

Why was Gretchen of all people announcing your sexuality at the talent show? What did she have to do with any of this? Maybe Regina had put her up to it. It didn't seem planned, though. You thought that Regina and Gretchen weren't talking.

"What's a lesbian?" Kylie asked you, all innocence and wide eyes.

"Kylie, don't ask that, it's not appropriate." Mrs George said.

"Why? Is it a bad word?" She turned to her mother. You took deep breaths and clenched your fists. Unclench. Clench. Everything was going to be fine.

"No, but it's not good to accuse somebody like that." Mrs George tried to explain gently, but you could tell she was out of her depth.

"But what does it mean?"

"Kylie, I said don't-"

"It means a girl that likes girls." You cut in.

"Huh... So like how boys like girls, but a girl likes a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

You would've paid so much money for it to be that simple. Why you couldn't be afforded the benefit of the doubt that you weren't a pervert, riddled with disease, and out to get people? Why was it so unbelievable that you didn't want to change the world, you just wanted to get married someday? Why did kissing girls on the mouth make you a predator?

You suspected there were no real answers to those questions. Fear. Repression. The patriarchy. Religion. The wage gap. Whatever.

The show went on. You felt numb. Realistically, what could you even do? Stand up and shout that it wasn't true? That would only serve to put a name to a face. The next talents came and performed their mediocrity to the mildly interested crowd. There was a pretty good sleight-of-hand magician. Somebody had trained their cat to do tricks.

Eventually, it was Regina's turn to take the stage. You couldn't help but perk up when they announced her. Mrs George was out of her seat immediately, kneeling on the pathway to the stage with a video camera poised to film her daughter.

The curtains parted. She stood in the centre of the stage, mic stand in front of her. She smiled a little, eyes on her mom presumably.

Her hair was done in soft waves, framing her face so beautifully. Natural makeup kept light, a compromise between the bare face that you liked and the full beat she was into. She was wearing an old white tee shirt, the logo so faded you could barely make it out. That had been your shirt, you realized as you narrowed your eyes. You'd gotten it from summer camp, one that Regina hadn't been able to come with you to. After you came back she'd confiscated all the stuff you'd gotten there. Tee shirts, crafts projects, a whittled duck, braided cord. You'd always assumed she had thrown it all in the trash. On her wrist was a braided leather cord and a wood bead friendship bracelet. She had on Lee jeans that hugged her hips and thighs exquisitely. Those had been her mom's.

In her hands was the photo album. Everybody could read the front, Reggie & Jorts.

"Notice me... Take my hand..." She crooned into the mic as the soft melody of Briney Spears' Everytime began to play.

"Why are we strangers when our love is strong? Why carry on without me?"

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," Her eyes scanned the crowd. You wondered if she was looking for you. "I feel so small, I guess I need you, baby,"

She found you. Your eyes met, hers clear and blue and somehow so sad, even as she glittered up on stage. Even with everybody's eyes on her, she was looking at you.

"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face," She sang so prettily, every note like a gentle caress, a soothing balm to your ears. You did so love to hear her sing.

"It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby," Her eyes closed, like she couldn't focus on two things at once; looking at you and singing. She swayed gently with the rhythm, feeling the soft instrumental in her feet. Sneakers. Simple, white sneakers.

Her eyes opened again with the next lyrics. You tried not to overthink it, tried not to imagine things that weren't there, but maybe there was a glassiness to her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I make-believe, that you are here. It's the only way that I see clear. What have I done? You seem to move on easy."

You swallowed, eyes closing. You weren't sure what to think. Was this her way of apologizing? Was she trying to make up for what'd been said? Hadn't she just earlier today made your life living hell?

You leaned your elbows onto your knees and cradled your face in your hands. What were you supposed to do now? She was singing to you. This was the ultimate show of sincerity, of vulnerability, but what were you meant to do with it all in your hands? Your chest tightened and your breaths shortened.

The song continued, you knew the lyrics by heart, but only once she sang the next part did you open your eyes again.

"I may have made it rain, please forgive me. My weakness caused you pain, and this song's my sorry,"

You understood. Cowardly as it may have been, Regina was apologizing to you. Though the references were obscure enough that most, if not all, people would not know who she was singing to, it was quite clear this was a song for somebody.

You rubbed at your throat. It felt constricted, like something was tightening around it.

You couldn't shake the feeling that it was too late. As much as you would've liked to weep in gratitude, be swept in the relief that she was taking you back, irreversible things had happened. None of this made sense. If she hadn't pulled the stunt today then who had? Had she told somebody? Had Janis told?

Regardless, you were an outcast. If not, then ridiculed. You were scared. You had become a target. You didn't think anybody at Northshore was capable of the atrocities you saw reported on the news, but nobody who'd become a victim did until it was too late.

As it was, it didn't matter whether or not you forgave Regina. It didn't matter if she forgave you.

"I guess I need you, baby," As the last line of the song carried throughout the gymnasium, and after the split second of stunned silence before people began cheering and clapping, you got up and left.

You'd smoke a cigarette and get out of here once and for all. Then, you'd drive home and call dad. You'd tell him everything, tell him you needed to switch schools and that you were gay and that you'd made a real mess of things.

You'd take what was given, reap what'd been sown, and forget all about this goddamned town.

Forget all about Regina George.

Notes: Took a bit longer with this one. Sorry for the suspense! Here, have some more unresolved stuff! Also, I fucking love that song by Britney Spears. I've known Regina was gonna sing it for J since pretty much the beginning and finally, she did.

Taglist will be posted separately. If you want to be added to the list, please comment on that post! Thank you!

[thyln4gf]

Friends

✞ You and Carlos have been best friends since forever. But is platonic love really everything that you feel for each other?

✞ Word count - 2,5k

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that I associate with this fic - "genie in a bottle" - Christina Aguilera, "friends" - Chase Atlantic, "a rash decision" - Ice Nine Kills, "sonne" - Rammstein, "dont be so shy" - Imany.

✞ Warnings - smut, unprotected sex (wrap the beast before the feast, folks), the influence of alcohol. I also wrote the most of it at like 4am, so pardon the quality of it, thank yewww x

✞ Carlos Sainz x fem!reader

As soon as you step into the house, a soft groan of relief leaves your throat. Your heels immediately get kicked off of your feet, and you dont even bother to fiddle with the straps too much. You had a long, long evening - formal settings werent exactly your natural habitat, but being there with Carlos made them much more bearable. You are his best friend, and he is a famous figure, meaning that he invites you to all sorts of events all the damn time. Speaking of which - he was watching you with amusement, completely aware of the fact that you werent exactly in a huge amount of comfort at the moment.

"And whos not making any sense now? I told you not to wear those." Carlos slips the comment your way, making you roll your eyes only hearing the three magic words. He didnt tell you everything, though - yes, he knew how uncomfortable your heels were. And yes, he also knew that walking in them sucked. But he kept something to himself - the fact that only the thought of those heels excited him, as he had always liked to imagine taking them off for you. He could vividly imagine kneeling right in front of you, taking his sweet time, kissing your skin everywhere that he could reach. He liked the idea of it a little too much, to the point he found himself disappointed when the sight of you kicking them off greeted him.

"I had no choice, and you know it. I had nothing else to go with this dress!" You complain, vaguely gesturing at the dress you were wearing - the tired whine in your voice was obvious. Carlos' eyes slide up and down your body as you did so - he had a chance, and he took it. God, he loved this dress - the red, short-ish dress with a slit on the side - the tattoo on your thigh peeked through each and every time that you moved. He got a sudden urge to bite your thigh right there and then, but he knew that hed be overstepping the boundaries.

All he does is let out an amused, half-chuckle type of laugh. He loved listening to your rants. And boy, could you do that just fine - your mouth never closed. And he loved it.

He started slipping his own shoes off, all while watching you walk into your kitchen - your movements were so smooth, to the point that he swore that you were floating sometimes. He doesnt want to have you out of his sight for too long, so he takes his shoes off just a little faster than he normally would, and following your idea of entering the kitchen. There he found you by one of the counters, pouring yourself a glass of wine. He lets a small smile appear on his lips - he just couldnt help himself around you.

"Tired, amor?" His voice floats through the air, smooth as butter on toast, and just as warm. He always used that specific petname for you, and only you. And youd be a liar if you said that it didnt make you feel some type of way - the tone he used never failed to turn you on just a little, despite you two being... friends? You werent too sure at this point. You just shrug at him as a response, still trying to grab a set of words that were coherent enough. You swirl the beverage in your glass around, eyebrows rising up for barely a second before taking a sip.

Yet another thing that he enjoyed about you - watching all those small habits of yours, which you probably dont even notice. He liked observing you, just looking at you. And he didnt even try to hide it - he'd just wink at you each and every time that you caught him doing so, with no shame.

He wasnt exactly shy, but when it came to you... he felt like he was a teenager all over again. You made his head spin, and it was a much more enjoyable high than alcohol could ever provide. Only the thought of you made his chest tighten, the air threatening to escape his lungs. He shouldnt be so nervous around you, he thought. He could get anyone all giggly in the matter of seconds. Proof? Charles. But you were a special case... thats for sure. The roles were reversed - you were the one that had him thinking about you all day and night, wishing to get out of the friendzone that everyone hated oh so much. He might have had a wank or two with you lingering on his mind - the way you smelled, the way your eyes looked at him. If the dictionary ever needed a picture to describe being down-bad, they should just stick one of Carlos in there.

After a minute of him staring at you with your drink, you look his way. It felt like a routine at this point - you look away from him even for a fraction of a second, and you know that youre going to see his goofy smirk staring right back at you. But this time... this time, something was off. You couldnt tell if it was the alcohol, or something else (you had a pretty awesome night, despite the event being a formal dinner, but thats a standard at this point) - he was looking at you with an almost... hungry look in his eyes. He looked like he was about to drill a hole through your soul, and was particularly enjoying himself, shooting the usual wink your way, before walking up to lean against the counter, right by your side. His thigh brushes against yours, the material of the suit against your skin almost making you shiver.

"You know what would make tonight even better?" He speaks up, his eyes never leaving yours. Hes acting all smooth and smug right now, but you could see him swallowing his own saliva, and his cheeks turning just a tad bit more red.

"Spill it, big boy. Im listening." You reply, your voice sounding just as seductive as his, almost making his brain short circuit - and you can see it from the way his grin makes its way back onto his lips. He had always found your teases adorable, honestly. Hats off for that.

"Well..." Carlos hesitated for a second, which wasnt like him at all - he was nervous, and it was an adorable sight to witness. "We could have the evening to ourselves and..." his eyes moved to your lips for a split second, letting his gaze linger on them for way longer than what he had considered the "safe limit". He only managed to speak again in a second, seemingly collecting himself a little better now. It didnt mean that his cheeks werent heating up in embarrassment, though. "Well, you know."

A chuckle slips from your throat upon hearing his offer. He was beating around the bush slightly, but not like you minded. You had always liked this goofball of a man, and his methods of getting his way. You never let them sink in deep, confused on his true intentions behind his actions. But something about this evening... the alcohol has hit your brain already, and awhile ago, and all you could think about was your friends lips all over you.

You down the rest of your drink, and put the glass down on the counter, a little to the right of you. You turn your head to Carlos, once again. He couldnt be more predictable - youre greeted with a sight of him staring at the hand handling the glass, then your waist. Eventually, up to your eyes. You stare back at him. You raise your finger to trace it along his jawline, his chin, the bottom half of his cheeks. He gulps, getting much more nervous than he was before.

"Youre adorable, did you know that?" You whisper right in front of his face, your warm breath hitting his lips. He doesnt even get to respond, before he feels your lips on his. His brain doesnt even register what was happening at first, but his body reacts way before his brain - his left hand immediately went to your hip, pulling you to his body. The other one is now gripping the counter, and he finds himself hoping that his knees wont give out. He could smell the cherry and cinnamon wine on you the moment you got closer, and he doesnt waste any time - he pushes his tongue out of his mouth, hungry and desperate to taste more. He groans, and your hand slides to his neck in response, gripping it ever so slightly, pulling him closer. He takes it as permission to shove his tongue even deeper, earning a little chuckle out of you.

Quickly enough, his other hand goes down to your hips as well, now caressing them with great intensity. The material of your dress slides up ever so slightly, and he just cant wait much longer - he lifts you without even trying, and places you on the counter. His movements are harsh and desperate, and he doesnt notice the glass. He knocks it over, and it shatters to pieces, right on the floor.

"Carlos..." you groan against his mouth, trying to pull away a little, so you could actually look at what just happened. You earn a sigh out of him for that - out of all the scenarios he had imagined of your first time together... all the circumstances of you moaning his name for the first time were not that. He clicks his tongue, and grabs your chin, turning your face to his, slamming his lips back on yours. It was almost like him saying that he really couldnt be giving less shits. He wanted you, and he was forced to wait for way too fucking long.

His other hand travels down to your thigh, now kneading it like his life depended on it. A moan slips from you, right into his mouth. The grip that you still have on his throat only tightens, causing his movements to become even more aggressive.

He tries to slide your dress up to your waist, but the fabric being trapped between the countertop and your body didnt let him. He lets out a slow groan of frustration. Desperate times call for desperate solutions, no? He leans you against his body, leaning back a little himself. That lets him pull the skirt up. He has barely even brushed his fingertips against your skin, but it was just enough to make your certain area feel a little tingly already.

He wants to take off your underwear as well, while you two are at it. He finds that his back cant take much more of being in this position, but he still hesitates about doing that, his fingers tugging the lacy material ever so slightly. You notice it, and grab one of his wrists to guide him to take those off, almost desperately. You can hear him sucking in a breath, but not resisting anything at all.

Once theyre off, he sits you back down to your previous position. His lips pull away from yours first, something that he never thought that he would be doing. He keeps staring into your eyes, his hands reaching to take his own pants off. This man had his tongue down your throat just seconds ago, and even that didnt make your face heat up more than this.

His pants are off in the matter of seconds. For a second there, he was close to fucking you just like this, through the hole his underpants had in the front. He ended up taking the underwear off as well, and it flied off even faster than the pants did, his boner getting freed as well.

He cant resist looking down to your pussy, already so wet and ready for him. So needy. You had always put up a tough demeanour, which you were trying to maintain even now. Adorable, he thought. He looks back up to your eyes while getting closer to you again, his palms landing on your thighs, spreading your legs just slightly. He was desperate, almost shaking with desire. But he still wanted to get your consent. God, you love men doing the bare minimum so much. All you can manage is a brief nod, and its all it takes him - he almost explodes on you. His lips immediately attack your neck, pressing multiple kisses everywhere that he could reach. He was never a man who liked to waste much time, and it shows - he gave his cock a few pumps before entering you right away, yet still taking his sweet time to let you adjust to him. He earns a gasp out of you, as you throw your head back. He cant help himself, and the kisses on your neck turn into gentle bites. You moan a little louder - feeling him on you, and in you was almost overwhelming, and you could already feel the knot in your lower stomach forming. Though, you werent sure if it was that, or his length hitting you deep. Or both.

He was even closer than you were. The precum has leaked long before he even took his pants off. Honestly... Being near you was almost like keeping an infinite edging streak - sexually frustrating torture. He thrusts into you for a few more minutes, and he already knows that hes about to cum. He groans in frustration (but only because you havent reached your high yet - he was disappointed with himself. But its not his fault that you were so... hot) and is about to pull out, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist, pulling him closer right before he can do that. A loud moan slips from his throat, the warm liquid already filling you up so good. And you find himself shutting him up with a kiss - the sloppiest youve ever had at this point.

His movements stop, his mind hazy from all the pleasure he's receiving. All he can focus on is you, and only you. You were content with leaving things like this, you were honestly about to cum anyway. Just another minute of him staying inside of you... But Carlos seemed to have gotten a different idea. Suddenly, he's in a kneeling position right in front of you, looking up with his pretty eyes. His eyelashes are longer than mine... what the fuck?

However, your train of thought quickly melts away when his tongue makes contact with your clit. He wanted to go slow just to tease you, but all the pretty sounds you were making teased him instead, and he found himself speeding up just a little, making sure to apply some more pressure as well. And, soon enough, youre riding your own high against his face. Both of your breaths are heavy, and both of you could be found smiling.

You both forgot about the load in you, however. You were still bathing in the dopamine after-high, the satisfaction making both of your heads spin. He looked up at you, again. And right at this moment, marrying your best friend seemed possible - something you never believed in.