Las insolencias del amor

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OKUNANLAR 2
Oylar 0
Bölümler 1
Süre <5 mins

amigos amistad amor bff mal novia romance sufrimiento triste

Trata de un chica que se enamora de su mejor amigo y él la hace sufrir sin darse cuenta...
  
  Además se estarán subiendo más, estas historias son cortas pero van a ser muchas.Tüm hakları saklıdır

amigos amistad amor bff mal novia romance sufrimiento triste

İçindekiler

-1-
Cts, Mar 18, 2017

1 bölüm

-1-
Cts, Mar 18, 2017

Eklemek için kaydolun Las insolencias del amor kütüphanenize ekleyin ve güncellemeleri alın

veya

#103amigos

İçerik Rehberi

Ayrıca sevebilecekleriniz

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𝘿𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙞 𝙖𝙪𝙧 𝙄𝙨𝙝𝙦 𝙚𝙠 𝙝𝙞 𝙙𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙞, 𝙀𝙠 𝙝𝙞 𝙨𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙞...

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𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 | 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 I went silent just resting my thoughts on the idea of loving him. Sighing I lifted my head and decided to tell him how I felt. "I love you TreyVon I really do" I whispered to him putting my hands on his chest. I felt him squeeze my waist and move one hand under my chin. Moving to kiss me he moved down on the bed, mid kiss he pulled away both of us kinda out of breath from this passionate kiss, "I love you" he returned putting his lips back on mine before he flipped us over on the bed and this romantic shit wasn't a normal thing that occurred regularly in my life. And when it did I just prayed that this man would be the love of my life till the day I'm off this planet and he's what kept the peace and sanity running in my life everyday. ━━ ranks; #1 shortstory #1 teenromance #1 hoodlove #1 thuglife #1 teenlove #1 hood #1 unedited #1 blackpeople #1 thuglove #1 blacklove #1 clingy #2 urbanstory #2 urbanfiction #2 hoodlovestory #2 smutmaybe #4 newadult #4 teenlove #7 enemiestolovers #7 urbanfantasy # 8 highschool

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mollitiam

Pages filled with thoughts I wouldn't dare say out loud. The weird, random moments that stuck with me, the people I noticed but pretended I didn't. The way I felt about things I acted indifferent to. It was all there, inked into the pages like a conversation with myself. No one would ever read it. No one would ever know the things I thought about, the things I laughed at, the things that made me roll my eyes at myself. Like how I let my gaze linger too long on that boy before groaning at my own damn self. Or how I swore I didn't care about people, but some part of me still held onto the memories of them anyway. My journal didn't judge. It just took everything in, let me spill it all out without making it a big deal. Without making me a big deal. So I wrote. Scribbled fast, let my thoughts spill onto the paper. Then I closed it, held it close for a second-like I always did-before tucking it away again. Out of sight, but never really out of mind.

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