#white crop tank top
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
denim-bias · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
39 notes · View notes
glamourbarbiie · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
❣️
88 notes · View notes
butch-bakugo · 4 months ago
Text
I love the fact that on twitter someone tried to make "Israeli Miku" and she litterally just looks like every white skinny chick in LA but they put like 16 stars of David on her and didn't even try lmao
Oh and people immediately started flooding them with Palestinian mikus, the world is healing
Zionists fuck off, Israel has no right to exist on land belonging to native Palestinians.
4 notes · View notes
womenofwrestlingfashion · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Ribbed Knit Jersey Tank Top from Prada ($995), LY Varey Lin Faux Leather Cropped Jacket in Grey ($49.99) & Lisa Collet Luxury Faux Fox Fur Jacket in Black ($96.90) from Amazon
7 notes · View notes
monicasfashioncrush · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
15 notes · View notes
denim-bias · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
freshthoughts2020 · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
0 notes
pinnedangel · 5 months ago
Text
google search why do i get something analogous to gender euphoria from articles of clothing that make my torso and/or arms white and fluffy as if i have fur or feathers. does not apply with any other color. angel euphoria moment.
1 note · View note
strawberri-syrup · 7 months ago
Text
finally remembered to order more of my fav tank top and it was on sale for 8 bucks. god is real and he loves me
0 notes
bradandchris · 2 years ago
Text
Brad and Chris’ neighbor Luke made it big when he coined the term ‘mankini’ on National Bartender’s Day.
It was somewhat fitting given his dad invented the rear windshield wiper on St Patricks Day. Until his father’s stroke of luck, Luke drew lines on his socks with marker after every third wash.
Tumblr media
843 notes · View notes
b0ydyke · 1 year ago
Text
me in the writers room for my outfit trying to come up with anything other than white tank top, crewneck sweater and jean shorts
1 note · View note
airsignaura · 1 year ago
Text
seeing a a butch’s boxers peak above their pants is the 8th wonder of the world
1 note · View note
denim-bias · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
flowersforbucky · 5 months ago
Text
it's nice to have a friend
Tumblr media
bucky barnes x reader
word count: 3.2k
summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.
author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!
warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only
Tumblr media
Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 
This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 
Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 
One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 
“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 
“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 
“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 
“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 
After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 
A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 
A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 
You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 
"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 
"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 
“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 
“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 
“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 
He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.
"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 
You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 
“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 
Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 
You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 
“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 
Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 
"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 
“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 
“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 
“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 
“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 
“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 
“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 
“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 
You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  
After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 
Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 
You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 
Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 
Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 
You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 
You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 
He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 
Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 
The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 
A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 
"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 
“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 
You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 
Oh. Not a joke, then. 
He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 
"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 
“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 
“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 
He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 
Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 
You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 
You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 
"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 
“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 
The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 
It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 
Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 
You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 
The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 
Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.
“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 
There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 
His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 
He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 
You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 
You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 
"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 
Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 
“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 
He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 
“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 
Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 
“How the fuck did you–” 
“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 
Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 
Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 
He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.
Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 
He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 
Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 
How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 
You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 
Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 
“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 
“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 
Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 
You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 
Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 
The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 
You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 
“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 
When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 
You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 
Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 
"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 
“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 
"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 
“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 
You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 
"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 
♡♡♡♡♡
my masterlist
thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅
1K notes · View notes
womenofwrestlingfashion · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Maxxine wears the Sleeveless Plunge Racerback Tank Cropped Top in Red (Sold on Amazon - $25.99) and White Miami Heat 2022/23 City Edition Swingman Shorts from Nike ($89.99)
0 notes
cosmicanakin · 4 months ago
Text
a quiet kind of forever ⎯⎯ V HACKER.
Tumblr media
YAP SESH! haven't written for him in what feels like ages. i genuinely feel so bad. anyway! so this cute lil fic idea was based off this TIKTOK of him 'n poncho. i can't stress enough how good he looks. && yeah, i'm guilty as charged. this was kept on repeat. ain't got no shame in admitting it.
⎯⎯ morning cuddles with a shirtless vinnie in his parents' backyard patio? yeah, you're definitely living the dream. his strong taut arms. seattle mornings. whispered confessions. a love story told in soft kisses and the scent of pine.
WARNING(S) fluff | kissing | F!READER | domestic love.
୨ৎ VINNIE'S LIBRARY
Tumblr media
the morning sun filters through the trees surrounding vinnie's parents' home in seattle, casting dappled shadows across the back patio. you're wrapped in vinnie's arms, your body pressed against his as you both stand outside, enjoying the crisp air and each other's company.
vinnie's wearing black baggy sweatpants that hang low on his hips, showcasing the perfect v-line of his abdomen. he's shirtless, his tattooed skin on full display in the soft morning light. his black fitted cap sits backwards on his head, a few strands of curls peeking out from underneath. you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks, even in his casual attire.
your outfit is equally relaxed - a black cropped tank top that reveals a sliver of your midriff, paired with light gray baggy sweatpants and white socks. your hair is clipped back messily, still tousled from sleep. it's clear you both just rolled out of bed, drawn outside by the beautiful morning and the desire to be close to one another.
your hands rest loosely around vinnie's bare torso, fingers tracing idle patterns on his warm skin. his own hands are settled on your lower back, thumbs rubbing small circles just above the waistband of your sweatpants. the touch is gentle, almost absent-minded, but it sends little shivers of pleasure up your spine.
vinnie dips his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. his lips trail down to your ear, where he nips playfully at your earlobe. you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "you're so beautiful in the morning, you know that?"
you can't help the smile that spreads across your face, burying your chin deeper into his shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. "shut up," you murmur, but there's no real protest in your voice.
he chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. "nah," he replies, placing another kiss just below your ear. "i love seeing you like this - all soft and sleepy and mine."
your heart swells at his words, and you press a kiss to his bare shoulder. your lips linger on his skin, savoring the warmth. "i love being here with you," you admit softly. "seeing where you grew up, meeting your family... it feels all so special."
vinnie's arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. "it is special," he agrees. "having you here, in my hometown... it's like two parts of my world coming together."
you lift your head to meet his gaze, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. sometimes it still amazes you how this boy, who seems so confident and carefree to the rest of the world, can be so vulnerable and open with you.
"i'm glad i'm here," you tell him, reaching up to cup his cheek. your thumb brushes over the light stubble on his chin, and he leans into your touch.
vinnie turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, then grins mischievously. "me too. although, i gotta say, i'm a little worried about leaving you alone with my mom. who knows what embarrassing stories she'll tell you."
you laugh, shaking your head. "oh, i'm counting on those stories. i need all the dirt i can get on little vinnie hacker."
he groans dramatically, but the smile never leaves his face. "i knew this was a mistake. you and my mom are going to team up against me, aren't you?"
"absolutely," you confirm with a nod. "it's my solemn duty as your girlfriend to collect as many embarrassing childhood stories as possible."
vinnie's eyes soften at the word 'girlfriend', and he leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. when he pulls back, he's smiling that smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "well, as long as you still like me after hearing all those stories, i guess i can't complain too much."
you pretend to consider this, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "hmm, i don't know. what if i find out you were, like, a total goof in middle school? that might be a deal-breaker."
vinnie laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet morning air. "baby, i hate to break it to you, but i was definitely a goof in middle school. probably still am, if we're being honest."
you grin, sliding your hands up his back to rest on his shoulder blades. the movement brings your bodies even closer together, and you feel vinnie's breath hitch slightly. "good thing i like goofs, then," you tease.
vinnie's eyes darken a bit as he looks at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. "oh yeah? how much do you like them?"
you lean in, your lips barely brushing against his as you speak. "why don't you find out?"
before you can close the distance, vinnie suddenly spins you around, pulling your back against his chest. his arms wrap around your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder. "nuh-uh," he says, his voice playful. "you can't distract me that easily. we're out here to enjoy the morning, remember?"
you laugh, leaning back into his embrace. "fine, fine. i guess the view is pretty nice."
and it is. from the back patio, you can see the lush green of the surrounding trees, their leaves rustling gently in the morning breeze. the sky is a clear, pale blue, with just a few wispy clouds drifting lazily overhead. it's peaceful in a way that's different from the constant buzz of activity you're used to in california.
vinnie hums in agreement, his chest vibrating against your back. "it is," he says, "but i think my view is better."
you roll your eyes, even though he can't see it. "that was cheesy, even for you."
"you love it," he retorts, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
you don't bother denying it, because you both know it's true. instead, you lean your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and just breathing in the moment. the fresh morning air, the warmth of vinnie's body against yours, the quiet chirping of birds in the distance — it all combines to create a perfect, peaceful bubble that you wish you could stay in forever.
vinnie seems to be thinking along the same lines. "we should do this more often," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "just... be together. no phones, no cameras, no schedules. just us."
you nod, reaching down to lace your fingers with his where they rest on your stomach. "i'd like that," you agree softly. "although i'm not sure how we'd manage it with your crazy schedule."
he sighs, nuzzling into your neck. "we'll figure it out," he says with determination. "i'll make time. you're worth it."
your heart swells with affection, and you turn in his arms to face him again. "you're a pretty awesome boyfriend," you tell him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.
vinnie grins, that cocky, charming smile that first caught your attention all those months ago. "i know," he says with a wink.
you laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "and goofy, too," you tease.
"the goofiest," he agrees solemnly, before breaking into another grin.
you can't resist anymore. you rise up on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss. vinnie responds immediately, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your neck as he deepens the kiss.
when you finally pull apart, you're both a little breathless. vinnie rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and a content smile on his face. "i love you," he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it.
your heart skips a beat. it's not the first time he's said it, but it still sends a thrill through you every time. "i love you too," you whisper back, your fingers tracing the lines of the snake tattoo over his collarbone and neck.
vinnie opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with so much warmth and affection that it almost overwhelms you. "yeah?" he says, his voice soft and a little awed, as if he still can't quite believe it.
"yeah," you confirm, smiling up at him. "always."
he kisses you again, slow and deep, pouring all his feelings into it. when you break apart this time, you're both grinning like idiots.
"come on," vinnie says, taking your hand. "let's go inside. i think i smell mom making pancakes."
as you follow him back into the house, your hand in his, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment - for the chance to see this side of vinnie, to be a part of his world in a way that feels so intimate and so real. you know that moments like these - quiet, perfect, and filled with love - will always be worth it.
1K notes · View notes