Miles Morales Sweater Novels & Stories

Morris just nodded before making his way back to the dining room. As soon as Morris left the room, I let out a groan of embarrassment. I stood up and went into my closet to search for something to wear. I scanned through the hangers, desperately trying to find the perfect outfit for the night. My eyes fell on a darker shade of green hoodie that had been buried beneath the others for far too long. "Are you fine with this hoodie?" I asked Miles as I turned around to show him the green hoodie. "Yeah, that'll be fine," Miles replied, his eyes focused on the hoodie I had just offered him. I nodded in response and tossed the black hoodie towards him, which he effortlessly caught. Watching him catc

"They look fine. They're trendy and they look good with your sweater. Are you only wearing them because Miles did?" "No, of course not," he scoffs and I can tell he is lying. Finn and Miles used to be very similar in their style. From behind, if it weren't for their different hair colours, they would have been identical. Miles did look very good in them today. Finn has a grey, baggy sweater on with the logo Tommy Hilfiger. He looks quite nice. His skin is clear and clean-shaven, his dark hair actually neat for once. "Wait, are you actually trying to look good? Is this an actual date?"

Cold sweat covered Peter’s forehead as he hastily explained, “You’ve misunderstood me, Mr. Morales. I don’t mean that… I wonder how Annabelle offended you, sir. Nevertheless, I shall apologize to you on behalf of her. Mr. Morales, will you please let this matter pass for my sake?” As he was speaking, Peter bent over and lowered himself. He walked over and poured a glass of whiskey for Mr. Morales. Moreover, he even raised his glass and apologized to Miles. Alas, Miles could not be bothered to pay attention to him. He did not even budge at all while his neck twitched once, and he cracked into a smile that could send a shiver down one’s spine. Miles said, “So, in that case, are you disrespecti

And saw Ethan at the landing, wearing the sweater she made. She swallowed as her heart was filled with complex emotions. She's perplexed because she can't understand this man. "Dude, you look good with the sweater. I haven't seen you wear like that," Jerome chuckled, he always saw Ethan in his suit. He preferred seeing him warm and friendly than being aloof and cold. "You looked younger and warm." "Moriah made this for me," he said with a boyish grin. Moriah, who was watching him intently, turned around and left them. She couldn't stand the emotions churning inside her chest.

"I'll be waiting in the car with your coffee, be quick hm?" Young-Jae hurried to open the bag and gasped at the beautiful sweater inside. It was a grey and white fabric with red details around the neck with a pair of jeans that were distressed around the knees. He quickly slid it over his head and frowned at the size, it landed just below his crotch and the sleeved hid his palms completely so he shrugged and rolled them up to perfection.

A war he is fighting within himself a war I want him to lose. My chest begins to heave with endless desire as I keenly watch the way his ocean blues darken and his nose flares with a compulsive need to fuck me as his orbs glide down from my stripped shoulders my voluptuous breasts that sneakily peek out from the collar of the sweater and halts to caress my quivering thighs. It feels as though he is stripping me bare with those fiery eyes of his that immobilize me. "Moira made this sweater for me for the winter. Do you not like it?" I ask innocently striving to hide the want in my voice. He does like it, he likes it very much. He disregards my question and walks around me towards the couch to

Lucas told him. "Sara? Who?" "Miles's friend, Sara." He said and his eyes moved back to the blond who was still turning the pages of the book and reading few lines occasionally. Lucas can see that this shirt isn't Miles's. It doesn't fit his frame, and it is leaner over his curves, Miles likes to hide his curves so he wear baggy and straight stitch shirts. "Well, that bitch better not be harassing him, or insulting him again. And the idiot must have gone there to apologise." Moura rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Wondering if Miles would take the bait… or flinch, disgusted…and turn against me. Miles, my American companion, made a pitiful attempt to adapt—his beige turban sat crooked from clumsy wrapping, and his white cotton shirt and khaki cargo pants looked more tourist than tracker. Aviator sunglasses caught the sun, and a small backpack with water and a GPS clung to him like a survival brochure come to life. “So, Miles… how’s the weather treating you?” I asked, smirking as he struggled to catch his breath, sweat pouring down his temples.

He’d been staying with me and Abigail for the time being, since he didn’t really sleep and didn’t need a suite all to himself. My hair was still short from when I’d shaved it a buzzcut for training camp and I’d kept it like that. I shaved and showered and dressed casually in jeans and boots with a t-shirt and a sweater that Maya had insisted she buy for me. I actually liked it even though Milo had laughed when I emerged from my room. “What?” “It’s a sweater.” Milo was pointing at the greenish blue sweater I had on. “Shut up. I like it.” “Can I have it?”

“Miles, will I ever meet your parents?” He was surprised by the question. Timid, introverted Aiden Morales--the silent kid that could hardly talk to other students--wanted to meet his parents? “If you want to.” “No, I don’t, I was just wondering if you’d make me.” Miles let out a laugh. There he is. That’s the Aiden I know. “I won’t make you do anything,” he finished paying and received his new jewelry with a bow. “That is, unless it’s scaling a roof, joining a bonfire ceremony, or canoeing in the middle of the night.”