Zoro T Shirt Novels & Stories

“So, we have to battle eight, more likely?” “Yes, but we also have to save those four. I suspect they’re just like Adam.” Z squinted at the Zorpheans dragging their feet. They have long faces, sadness apparent in the way that they look down. From where Z stood, she could infer that they’re being forced to do the enemy’s bidding, threatened no doubt. Two of them were already balding, but the other two still look younger. “Perhaps you’re right.” The rider of the carriage wore silver armor, glinting to the beam of the moon. For the whole five minutes, they did nothing but stare at the forest, trying to decipher the creature hidden in its midst but was not daring enough to move closer.

"Very daring, aren't you? Take them off completely then" Much to the dismay of the little angel on my right shoulder whispering to take a step back. I listened to the devil. If there was one thing I liked about Zorin, it would be his body, and I'm not rejecting an opportunity to see it from up close. I slid the shirt from his arms one by one, lifting my finger to touch the little skull tattoos littered on his chest he caught my hand. "Take my shirt" I blinked. "Excuse me?"

And why the hell does he have to look like that? Zane isn’t dressed for training the way the rest of the pack is. No loose tank. No standard issue gear. He’s wearing fitted black combat pants that sit low on his hips, clinging to thick thighs like they were designed specifically to remind women why self-control is a myth. And that outline of his package… holy hell. I’m fucking salivating. I swear my beast is purring in my head. A dark long-sleeve compression shirt moulds to his torso, stretched tight over his broad shoulders and chest. The pack sigil is stamped over his heart.

The banner was draped majestically above the fireplace, where it fluttered proudly in the flickering candlelight. The assembly of young werewolves presented Thane with an array of thoughtful gifts, each one a testament to their esteem and affection for their crippled leader. Zara, a gentle soul with a talent for needlework, presented Thane with a beautifully embroidered waistcoat, adorned with intricate, silver thread patterns.

Yes, yes she did. "That would be nice." And probably allow her to breathe. The jeans fit like a second skin and the tank top was made for someone with much smaller boobs. Zain rolled out of bed again and went to the dresser. He dug around for a moment before holding up a red Star Wars shirt featuring an X-Wing. The offering made her smile as she scooted out of bed and accepted the shirt. He held onto it for a second, his shadowed gaze locked on her. After a long pause, he released the shirt and backed up.

Zofi said. Suddenly, something caught her eyes. Someone standing near the counter is wearing the same design of t-shirt she bought for her and Billie. She stood up and walked to the man wearing the shirt. “It’s you!” she said to Jiro. “Zofi. Hello,” Jiro greeted her in a trembling voice. “This is too much,” she said while walking back to her table. She called Natalie. “Hey, Natalie. I thought the shirt’s design was limited,” she asked.

He tried to chase after me, but finally gave up after a while. "Damn, you’re fast," he said. We walked back to the forest border and I shifted back, quickly putting my t-shirt on. My t-shirt got soaked as well, so it clung to my body as a tight dress leaving nothing to the imagination. I didn’t notice at first until I saw Kenzo staring at me. I put my arm across my chest swiftly, noticing he was only wearing a pair of training shorts. His chest was covered in beautiful tattoo’s, a dragon on one side and a wolf on the other.

LAMIA It was already the end of the week, and despite how stressful it had been and all the meetings and planning, time flew by. I glanced in the mirror as I threw on a pair of denim shorts and a purple V-neck tee, pulling my hair into a ponytail, my fingers trailed over Zane’s mark. I smiled; it was the image of the tribal black wolf, his personal signature displayed beautifully on my neck. I couldn’t be more proud to wear it.

Mine, of course, was Roman’s name and number, while Zoey got a custom jersey with her name on it and a big zero-zero instead of one of the player’s numbers. This man’s thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. Of course I’d want his jersey, but he had one made for Zo so she would be comfortable. We’re getting ready for the game now, and I’m going with a bundled-chic look because I didn’t realize before how cold it gets in there. I’m wearing a pair of thick but cute black cargo joggers, with a T-shirt underneath my plain black hoodie.

A thing utterly forbidden to her kind. He came not through the door, but from the shadows themselves, the darkness coalescing into a form of immense, terrifying power. Zoran. His skin was the deep red of fresh blood, his horns swept back from a face of brutal, angular beauty. His eyes burned with the amber fire of the abyss, and his wings, vast and leathery, folded against his back. The sheer, raw masculinity of him made Vyxaria’s mouth water, her pussy clenching in immediate, aching response.