El Chapo Sweater の小説・ストーリー

What he held was not a black dog, but a wooly mohair sweater. He thrust it toward me as we stood there, he on the dry sand and I on the wet sand. It was as if that literal line in the sand marked the vast separation between us: he the eccentric and handsome billionaire, master of this enormous estate, and Alpha wolf, and I, daughter of a hardware monger, plain-looking, and underdressed in the most literal sense of the word. I took the sweater from him, holding one arm against my chest to hide my erect nipples.

She looked at him. “He broke my heart,” she said in a whisper. He felt sorry for her. Something lit up in his head and he got up and went towards his luggage. He picked up a red knitted sweater, it was beautifully knitted. He wore it and walked in front of her. There were Christmas trees and horses engraved over it. She looked at him and burst into laughter. “What is this?” she asked while laughing. “My Granny has made this for me, she asked me to wear it over charismas,” he said while pointing at the sweater.

He also gave up on trying to get me to talk around an hour ago. Another shiver went down my spine and my teeth began to chatter so hard they hurt. I heard the screeching of the chair from my right as it moved but I didn't dare to turn and look. His footsteps got closer before I felt something warm and soft fall over my arm. I looked at the sweater laying there then up at Chase. He nodded his head toward his sweater, "Put that on you." "I don't want anything from you," I mumbled but the side of it brushing against my arm made me crave its warmth even more. He ignored my words and walked away. I stared at his retreating figure to notice that he is only in the t-shirt he wore under it.

Jimmie is, of course, delighted that she let down her hair as he hears her say, her voice taking on that teasing quality he has come to know and love so well, "Well son I hope you don't think my new sweater is also 'too professional'." He glances briefly at the sweater and is lost. Besides besides being super tight, he notices her sweater boasts a beautiful open knit crocheted look that is practically see through!! A fact he can't help but to notice as he stares at her chest helplessly and notices the dark outline of her nipples.

Something… that could free him? Alexei couldn't believe the heck of what his ears were feeding him. A ring! He repeated. His pulse hammering. “Why tell me this?” “Because, I hear the storm in your voice. You are bound to someone who calls himself master. You want to be free, Alexei? Then you must seek weapons that are not of this world. I have searched, my boy. The Cham is real. And I believe—it belongs to you.” Alexei’s throat went dry.

I must look even worse than I thought. "What's that supposed to mean!" Toshiro exclaimed, offended. "Do you know how hard it was for me to find these clothes? It's perfect for blending in. He'll be like a shadow" "Shadow?" I asked. "More like a disco ball. They may be black but they are so big and ugly that I would attract the attention of every single person out there. I mean look at this Toshiro," I pulled at the baggy black sweater. "Where the hell did you find this? And why is the hat so huge? It feels like it's stuffed with tons of wool"

Ivan: See you in a few hours. 'grinning emoji.' Grinning, I quickly typed. Seraphina: Waiting. 'Blushing'. After finishing my assignments, I cleared the table and reached for my clothes. My gaze landed on the sweater I had been looking forward to wearing—a chunky, knitted beige cardigan with delicate red bows scattered across the front. The V-neckline was simple, fastened down the centre with matching red buttons. It was a gift from my father, and after two years, slipping it on felt like wrapping myself in a memory. A quiet, bittersweet kind of nostalgia settled over me.

Freya hands me a pair of purple leggings, sneakers and an oversize Christmas sweater that had a Lama on the front wearing a Santa hat and sunglasses. I scowl at the sweater, “What is with all the ugly sweaters?” I look around and even the kids are wearing questionable items. Nothing inappropriate, just… funny, weird and ugly. “Oh, Rocco is the one who provides the clothes, and he thinks they are funny.” She shrugs as she pops a grape into her mouth. “Who?” I don’t remember anyone named Rocco from my memories of the lab. I slip into the leggings and sweater instantly feeling much warmer from the long simple t-shirt I was wearing previously.

Thank you very much love. I simultaneously open my eyes as a cry escapes my mouth, and reach out a hand for the cherry-shaded sweater with the number 24 printed in the middle. The mug and the sweater are genuine, I'm not imagining it and that makes me feel abuse in my chest. Without giving up the little infinity, I bring the sweater closer to my face and take a deep breath. It smells like nuts and mint, it smells like him, similar to Melido; I know in my heart that this is the way it smells.

“Are you always like this?” “No. Sometimes I sleep.” He laughed again, louder this time, actually amused. “You’re funny.” “I know. It makes my life harder.” His eyes dropped to my T-shirt. “Your outfit is... interesting.” I looked at Javier’s boxers, which showed a little when I shifted. “It’s couture.” “Couture?” “Spring Collection. Very exclusive. Stolen from the laundry.” He opened his mouth, but I had already turned to the bartender.