Please Come Home Hoodie Novels & Stories

It was a simple but profound design, and it immediately caught my eye. She passed me the hoodie, and I noticed its clear signs of use. It had been around for a while, and its many adventures were visible on the fabric. I took a deep sniff of the hoodie and a wave of contentment hit me. It was an amazing smell, something I had never experienced before. It was a mixture of comfort, familiarity, and joy. I was being hugged by the fabric, and I knew without a doubt that I wanted to keep this hoodie with me forever. I put in an order for two dishes, one for my dad and one for me, and take a seat at the bar to wait.

An elastic waistband sweatpants, a giant black hoodie that was three times my size and a pair of new undies. I got dressed and met him in the studio. He paced the floors, talking to someone and swearing loudly on the phone. He spotted me and hung up, crossing the space between us. “You okay?” He asked, sharp eyes scanning my form. I nodded. “I like this,” I said, raising my arms. The hoodie was so big I could swim inside it. “It’s been what…ten years since I last stole a hoodie from you?” His eyes narrowed. He didn’t buy my joke. “Come. I ordered some food. There’s this fruit stall down the street. They had fresh oranges and—"

Colette asked. I looked down at my shirt. A gray hoodie. The same one I wore almost every day. "A hoodie," I said. "I love hoodies. Hoodies are the best invention in the history of inventions. Better than sliced bread. Better than the internet. You cannot cuddle with the internet." "You can cuddle with a hoodie?" "You can cuddle with a person wearing a hoodie. That is the point." She grinned. "Are you a hugger?" "I do not know. I have never thought about it."

Like I’ve finally found out what I was made for. They let me clean up. Stand under the spray while the evidence washes off my skin, down the drain, out of sight. But I can still feel them inside me. Can still feel the ache in my pussy, my ass, my throat. The pleasant soreness that says you were used well. Someone hands me a towel. Someone else gives me a hoodie – massive, smelling like cologne, MITCHELL printed on the back. Darren’s hoodie. “Keep it,” he says when I try to give it back. “Looks better on you anyway.”

I was knee-deep in my wardrobe chaos, tossing shirts and hoodies over my shoulder as I tried to decide what to wear. The first day of senior year. My last year in high school. Crazy, right? I already knew what I wanted though — my favorite black hoodie. The one with “Elian” printed across the back in bold white letters, like it had something to prove. I paired it with ripped-free black jeans, clean sneakers, and my head warmer. All black and red, obviously.

I was surprised when someone sat on the empty sit in front of me, ordering the same coffee and pastry as me. I clue snap out on my head. "You're like a mushroom, you just came out of nowhere." I said, forking the cake. " You know me," he said underneath the hood. " I have never know someone who just came out of nowhere with hoodies except you. Are you trying to be Robinhood? Zack?" I heard him laugh as he took off the hoodie that covers his face and I'm not wrong. " So you know me already, you're not afraid of me anymore?"

my smile drops. He's still wearing that black hoodie from morning, cause obviously he hasn't gone home yet. His ring radiating mysterious green light in the dim light, reflecting a part of his face. The hands of his hoodie are shortened till his elbows, it's clear that he works out daily, the veins are showing all over. It's pretty sexy, not gonna lie.

Well actually it's just mine now because I have a separate walk in closet, but yeah it was his before it was mine. " Well lets take a look shall we? " she walked into the closet and I could hear hangers sliding and drawers opening and closing until she walked out with one of my favorite Twenty One Pilots hoodies and one of my shirts.2 " Well I say you have a good taste in hoodies and music, just not in shirts. Yep, we gotta go shopping as soon as this blows over. " " Hey! " I walk over to her and take the shirt she was referring to and hugged it, " This is one of my favorites. "

Zephyr bends over my arm to read it, his air cozy on my nape and his frame stiff against mine. “This is a trap,” I speak, my tone calm despite the fury rising within me. “They are not done with us yet. This whole thing is a setup to draw us out.” The hoodie person suddenly dashes without warning, pushing through the crowd of puzzled people and vanishing into the mass of people before we can react, hidden in seconds by the terminal’s nonstop rush.

How long was I been unconscious to wake up seeing him in that state? Their conversation continued as I stood with careful steps heading to my closet. My fingers reached the closet door and it rested there for a second. How could I even yell at him after he handed me his shirt? Where in fact he could keep it in the first place? I sighed as I opened the closet and a huge collection of hoodies greeted me. Because why not? Hoodies were my favorite. My hand went straight to the folded hoddie on the top shef, just above the ones hanging. It was a purple neon with black stripes on the edge of the sleeves. It was my favorite because of its 100% cotton made and the soothing warmth of its plush fabric