@thekarlatobie: im solddddd 😍🙌🏾🔥 wow

Karla Tobie

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Region: US

Wednesday 03 January 2024 17:14:31 GMT

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Comments

QueenB :

Wait no forreal ? I'm sold lol

2024-01-04 00:32:51

30

Da sweetest Tee :

What’s the name of the shapewear ?

2024-02-05 00:45:38

0

MizzTX :

Tell us about the dress

2024-01-07 14:08:26

11

𝒾𝒜𝓂𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈💎𝓃 :

Dress from where tho?

2024-01-05 17:12:19

2

thickky87 :

wat size did you get?

2024-01-16 03:26:56

2

R.Anthony_Giacobbe :

That is smoking hottt 🤩😍

2024-01-04 06:09:39

3

BeGlamourUs :

🔥🔥🔥🔥

2024-09-10 15:59:44

0

sidrasocial :

👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

2024-01-09 23:42:33

0

Cortney Reese :

Sis you fine either damn way!!! And been fine. But at this point, he just gone have to love me and my tummy. 😂😂

2024-01-03 22:44:18

6

justjojo :

you just helped me a lot. I'm 270 and needed to see someone like me

2024-01-05 14:31:04

3

esmievida :

Do you recommend getting a size down for this?

2024-01-16 08:51:11

1

Zion :

Did you size down

2024-07-19 11:08:19

0

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#pov — “breaking the player” (part 4) There’s something different about him now. Not in a dramatic, movie-kind-of way. It’s in the small things. Jeremiah Ong — the campus heartbreaker, the guy who used to make a sport out of flirting — now waits quietly outside my class every Tuesday and Thursday. No grand gestures. No show-off energy. Just him, sitting on the bench, scrolling through his phone until I walk out the door. “Hindi ka ba napapagod?” I asked one afternoon, when I caught him leaning against the hallway wall. He shrugged. “Sanay akong maghintay.” “Ng?” “Ng taong worth it.” I rolled my eyes, pero kinagat ko ‘yung loob ng pisngi ko para lang hindi mapangiti. It started small. He’d buy me iced coffee before our 7 a.m. class, always the same order — one sugar, extra ice, oat milk.  “Naalala mo pa?” I asked once.  He smiled. “Sinabi mo ‘yun nung finals week last sem. Sabi mo, ‘Kung walang oat milk, ‘wag na lang.’” I blinked. “You remembered that?” “Of course,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. And then came the texts. Not the kind he used to send before — not “hey” or “u up?” or any of the lazy flirty lines people screenshot and laugh about. It was more like— Jeremiah: Uwi ka na? Sabay tayo kung late na. Jeremiah: Pahinga ka muna. ‘Di lahat ng laban kailangan sabayan. Jeremiah: May nabasa akong article sabi, people who care too much get tired fast. Wag ka masyado magpaka-superwoman, Soph. He’d say things that hit deeper than I expected. And every time my phone lit up with his name, my chest did that stupid thing — that skip. I told myself it was nothing. That it was just Jeremiah being friendly.  But the truth? He wasn’t just being friendly. He was being consistent. And that scared me more than anything. One Friday night, after a long day, nag-decide akong mag-stay sa campus café to study. It was almost closing time when I heard a familiar voice. “Late ka na ah.” I looked up — and there he was, holding his basketball bag, hair still damp from practice, that easy grin on his face. “Hindi ako nakatapos sa notes,” I said. “So ayun, catching up.” He sat down across from me without asking. “I’ll wait ‘til you’re done.” “Hindi mo kailangang—” “I know,” he said, cutting me off with that same quiet tone he always used lately. “Gusto ko.” I sighed, going back to my laptop. “Ang kulit mo talaga.” “Sanay ka lang kasi dati ako lang ‘yung umaalis.” He said it again — that same line he’d thrown days ago — and this time, I actually looked at him. His eyes were tired, but sincere. Not challenging, not teasing. Just there. Honest. And for a second, I forgot how to breathe. We didn’t talk much after that. He just sat there, watching me type, occasionally sipping from his drink. It was quiet, but not awkward. When I finally packed up my things, the café was almost empty. “Hatid na kita,” he offered again. I shook my head. “Jeo—” “Please,” he said, voice soft. “Para lang hindi ako mag-alala.” I hesitated… then nodded. “Fine.” We walked in silence. Just the sound of our footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets. It should’ve been nothing, just another walk home. But it wasn’t. Because every few steps, I’d catch him glancing at me — not in the flirty, hungry way he used to look at other girls, but in that quiet, careful way of someone who’s scared to ruin something fragile. And when I looked back? He’d pretend to look away. Putik. Pagdating sa dorm gate, I turned to him. “Thanks, Jeo. You don’t really have to keep doing this, you know.” “I know,” he said again. “Pero gusto ko pa rin.” “Bakit?” He paused. His hand brushed the back of his neck, a habit I noticed he did when he was nervous.  “Alam mo, Sophie,” he started. “Dati, gusto kong mapansin ako ng kahit sino. Pero ngayon…” He looked at me. “Gusto ko lang mapansin ako ng ikaw.” My chest tightened.  “Jeremiah, hindi ako sigurado kung kaya ko ‘to.” “Hindi ko hinihingi na kaya mo agad,” he said. “Hinihingi ko lang na hayaan mo kong subukan.” — #jeoong #jeoongedits #jeremiahemmanuelong #fyp

#pov — “breaking the player” (part 4) There’s something different about him now. Not in a dramatic, movie-kind-of way. It’s in the small things. Jeremiah Ong — the campus heartbreaker, the guy who used to make a sport out of flirting — now waits quietly outside my class every Tuesday and Thursday. No grand gestures. No show-off energy. Just him, sitting on the bench, scrolling through his phone until I walk out the door. “Hindi ka ba napapagod?” I asked one afternoon, when I caught him leaning against the hallway wall. He shrugged. “Sanay akong maghintay.” “Ng?” “Ng taong worth it.” I rolled my eyes, pero kinagat ko ‘yung loob ng pisngi ko para lang hindi mapangiti. It started small. He’d buy me iced coffee before our 7 a.m. class, always the same order — one sugar, extra ice, oat milk.  “Naalala mo pa?” I asked once.  He smiled. “Sinabi mo ‘yun nung finals week last sem. Sabi mo, ‘Kung walang oat milk, ‘wag na lang.’” I blinked. “You remembered that?” “Of course,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. And then came the texts. Not the kind he used to send before — not “hey” or “u up?” or any of the lazy flirty lines people screenshot and laugh about. It was more like— Jeremiah: Uwi ka na? Sabay tayo kung late na. Jeremiah: Pahinga ka muna. ‘Di lahat ng laban kailangan sabayan. Jeremiah: May nabasa akong article sabi, people who care too much get tired fast. Wag ka masyado magpaka-superwoman, Soph. He’d say things that hit deeper than I expected. And every time my phone lit up with his name, my chest did that stupid thing — that skip. I told myself it was nothing. That it was just Jeremiah being friendly.  But the truth? He wasn’t just being friendly. He was being consistent. And that scared me more than anything. One Friday night, after a long day, nag-decide akong mag-stay sa campus café to study. It was almost closing time when I heard a familiar voice. “Late ka na ah.” I looked up — and there he was, holding his basketball bag, hair still damp from practice, that easy grin on his face. “Hindi ako nakatapos sa notes,” I said. “So ayun, catching up.” He sat down across from me without asking. “I’ll wait ‘til you’re done.” “Hindi mo kailangang—” “I know,” he said, cutting me off with that same quiet tone he always used lately. “Gusto ko.” I sighed, going back to my laptop. “Ang kulit mo talaga.” “Sanay ka lang kasi dati ako lang ‘yung umaalis.” He said it again — that same line he’d thrown days ago — and this time, I actually looked at him. His eyes were tired, but sincere. Not challenging, not teasing. Just there. Honest. And for a second, I forgot how to breathe. We didn’t talk much after that. He just sat there, watching me type, occasionally sipping from his drink. It was quiet, but not awkward. When I finally packed up my things, the café was almost empty. “Hatid na kita,” he offered again. I shook my head. “Jeo—” “Please,” he said, voice soft. “Para lang hindi ako mag-alala.” I hesitated… then nodded. “Fine.” We walked in silence. Just the sound of our footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets. It should’ve been nothing, just another walk home. But it wasn’t. Because every few steps, I’d catch him glancing at me — not in the flirty, hungry way he used to look at other girls, but in that quiet, careful way of someone who’s scared to ruin something fragile. And when I looked back? He’d pretend to look away. Putik. Pagdating sa dorm gate, I turned to him. “Thanks, Jeo. You don’t really have to keep doing this, you know.” “I know,” he said again. “Pero gusto ko pa rin.” “Bakit?” He paused. His hand brushed the back of his neck, a habit I noticed he did when he was nervous.  “Alam mo, Sophie,” he started. “Dati, gusto kong mapansin ako ng kahit sino. Pero ngayon…” He looked at me. “Gusto ko lang mapansin ako ng ikaw.” My chest tightened.  “Jeremiah, hindi ako sigurado kung kaya ko ‘to.” “Hindi ko hinihingi na kaya mo agad,” he said. “Hinihingi ko lang na hayaan mo kong subukan.” — #jeoong #jeoongedits #jeremiahemmanuelong #fyp

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