Bakugou Shirtless Anime Novels & Stories

“An Alpha walking barefoot, and half naked?” “Well, I've never been one to give a damn about what people have to say.” “Whatever!” He rolled his eyes. The moonlight caught the sheen of sweat on his human form. He was wearing a thin singlet and ‘miraculously’ a crumpled shirt still clung to his arm. With a sigh, he peeled off the shirt.

"Maybe we should also be that transfer student too, just to see how the mouse wil-" **** "Takeshi please from next time pay attention when you are running down from the stairs," Koishi said following behind Takeshi who has changed into the spare clothes Koishi. He can smell the scent of the lily flowers and detergent from the long sleeves t-shirt with the anime print over it and black shorts. With his knees patched along with the bandage upon the knuckles bruise over the left side of his eyes. Cut over the coner of his lips which almost solen.

It takes me a moment to realize he's totally shirtless, his lightly tanned skin beaded with perspiration and his golden blonde hair held back messily in a headband. "Hey Ash!" Ben says with a cheeky grin as he walks into the room. He's shirtless like Alastaire, his trademark skulls and bones bandana tied around his head. "Do you like marshmallows?" Errr... what?

Jack whispered, a breathtaking, genuine smile stretching across his face. Marcus stood a half-step behind him, exactly where the Bastion was supposed to be. The boxer wore a sleek, sleeveless combat rig of dark grey kinetic fabric that highlighted the heavy, scarred muscle of his massive arms. His hands were bound in fresh, pristine athletic tape, but beneath the fabric, the Liquid Silver mana was already simmering, coiled and ready.

I am so going to beat him this time ,you Maxwell just pray you didn't come in front of me soon otherwise this is going to be your last day. i am in a extra-large grey men's shirt and it won't take a genius to know whose shirt is this! With white shorts ,he changed my pants too ,I am back to taking deep breaths to control myself no wonder I felt so free to move around but what I dread the most is ,I hold my shirt forward to look inside confirming my doubt , I don't have a bra on... That's it I can't take this shit anymore

“No. Well, kind of. Natsumi is here. Specifically, right in front… it’s not funny.” “Then why am I laughing?” “Because you’re an ass… a-hole.” “I knew you missed me. I can’t blame you though. I mean, I look fuckable. Does that ring a bell?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Ok, but just so you know, I’m wearing a shirt that shows off my muscles and pants that hang off my waist in a certain way. But to answer your question, most of my clothes are like that and it can’t be helped because it’s not every day that you get guys as big as I am.”

I couldn’t help but find him and the whole situation sexy. Ryu was wearing a sleeveless white shirt which left his arm muscles exposed. The more he moved, the more they coiled and flexed beautifully. Like a work of art. The vein lines were visible and his arms have never been so attractive to me before. I could just picture him pinning me down with them and having his way with me. Not to forget the fact that the shirt did nothing to hide his abs. In fact, they were accentuated for I could see all the lines and ridges of his muscular chest. Even the big pecs. And then those strong jean clad thighs… oh lord...

Why is he shirtless? >Shirtless Salvy He turned his head and smiled at me. “Sorry my angioletto, I did not have a shirt on my gym bag.” My heart and my ovary jumped. I have this strong urge to run my fingers to his chest and abs again. “D-did I say that out loud?” I cover my mouth with my hands. He nods and chuckles, he gets back to cooking and I shamelessly stare at his body. His back has several scars and some of it looked like they came from deep wounds. Is his life always in danger? He looks strong but what if someone tried to kill him again like last time.

“Go to the bathroom, I’ll sort the bills and join you shortly.” I nod and carry my shopping bag along. A sales assistant points out the restroom and thankfully, it's vacant. I swiftly change into them. The top is… Fuck. It's obvious that I’m braless even from miles away. The sheer, provocative fabric squeezes against my big breasts, pulls the fat orbs together, and aggressively maps out my thick nipples. It's fragile, the type of shirts big-titted pornstars wear to display their boobs or act in the ‘accidentally drenched’ POV that shows the whole world the shape and size of their breasts, down to their nipples, and even cling to their skin, begging to be freed.

I gave him a glare, but before I could say anything, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. For a second, my brain just… stopped. His body was exactly how I remembered it—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every line of muscle defined under his skin. There were faint scars across his ribs and chest, telling stories I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. Drops of rain slid down his collarbone, trailing over firm abs, and I had to quickly look away before my staring became obvious. “Fine,” he said casually, tossing the shirt aside. “I’ll wash my clothes and stay shirtless until they’re dry.”