Chainsaw Man Black Hair Guy Mga Nobela at Kwento

Heaven, who had laid back in bed, jolts to a sitting position on seeing him, her eyes wide as she stares at him. “You… you— you’re…” The words die in her throat. How is the man not Ziason? All she can see is Ziason with long hair, gray eyes piercing across the room to her. As he approaches her, the heavy chain hanging down from his neck sways from side to side. He’s clad in a fitted black leather pants, a gray short-sleeved shirt tucked neatly in, layered by a black leather jacket. Black gloves hug his hands. A sheath of dagger hang from his thick belt, and the metal buckles on his boots ring softly with every step, resounding in Heaven’s head just as his scent hit her.

He looks like some kind of sun-kissed prince—if princes were capable of bone-crushing death grips. The man beside him, the one who smells like cedar and dark spice, lets out a low, dangerous growl. “Fuck.” My gaze snaps to him. Unlike the golden prince, this one is all sharp angles and deadly edges. His black hair is cut short, his jawline razor-sharp, and his stormy gray eyes are filled with something unreadable—anger? Frustration? Hunger? “We need to talk,” he says flatly. His voice is like gravel, rough and commanding, and he’s already reaching out, grabbing the other two by the arms to pull them toward the door.

I nodded and, following Erin's suggestion, slapped Caleb twice more. His rage erupted. "Maeve Griffith! Don't push your luck!" "Push my luck? It's just two slaps. It's not like you'll get a concussion," I retorted. I yanked off my hat, revealing my bald head. "And this, too, Caleb. When are you going to pay for cutting my hair and pushing me into a concussion? Don't tell me that you're not even willing to pay back this little bit of money?"

The sides of his hair are shaved to the same length as his sideburns and beard, leaving the top angled to the side. Delicious. “Anyone,” one of the other guys says in a Latin accent. His voice is so deep and smooth it makes my pussy shiver. His hair is pitch black and falls to his shoulders. His sharp chin is covered in stubble. He is not as tall as the first, but just as broad and strong.

I have to help him! “Oh, his little mate is finally awake. She can finally enjoy the show.” Somebody behind me spoke and when I turned, it was the same tall man earlier. Looking at him gives me the creeps, and it’s not that he’s even bad-looking. It’s just the way… he is. The dark hair that covers half of his face, barely even seeing his black eyes but when you do, it’s like it stares into your soul. But it’s the long cut from his right brow to his chin that really makes him stand out.

’’ Dylan said. Jason had short blond hair that was cut very close to his skin. He was tall and huge just like the other guys. Connor, the one who had the long black hair and had spoken some moments ago smiled down at her. Crisscrossing tattoos filled his left, giving him that bad boy vibe Amanda was already used to.

His hair turned a light pink his eyes following in suit, small fangs poking through as he smiles brightly his eyes crinkling up as he does so. His fingers elongated the color of charcol black working fully through his fingers. Ivan steps forward next a dark suit on him as his eyes turned a light purple but his hair looked black towards his scalp as dark purple locks stand out neat styled on his head, fangs sticking out just like Finn as he steps forward his arms fanned out as dark black veins traveled all the way to his neck. He walked forward confidently almost flauntingly as he smiles at her causing her to laugh a little at his confidence, if anything it only served to boost his ego.

Chapter 2 “if your daddy doesn't bring my money in the next thirty minutes, I bet you, you'll kick the bucket.” AHEM he cleared his throat, adjusting his red polka dotted tie. He took a long drag from his cigar and then plodded out. Wincing and groaning I tugged the manacles but it was futile. Minutes later, the bald dude and bulry guy on red T-shirt processed in. “That chair that you are sitting on. Do you know it's an electric chair?”

a good woman in her own special way, who knows just how to deal with my tantrums, unlike my dad. I heaved a sigh at how frustrated my life would be without Ace. From my peripheral vision, I sighted a guy in a grey Blueberry imprinted hoodie on a pair of black ripped jeans. His hair must have been long because a little mop of platinum blonde hair kissed his shoulder blade despite the hood. The distance didn't benefit any further detailed examination of him. He had a peculiar way of staring at his surroundings as he did the expensive wristwatches concealed in a glass frame. Then, followed the rack of pretty expensive button-up shirts.

Evandor asked in a suspicious tone. At that moment, the elevator door opened and Nicholas was helping a guy on a wheelchair. He looked same age as Evandor. The guy was black haired with ghostly pale white skin. His eyes were bright golden, his dark red lips were shining. His fangs were visible when he brightly smiled at Evandor. There were scar marks on the skin of his left cheek and his entire neck indicating he was attacked by werewolves in the past. “Greetings, my lord” said the black haired guy sitting on the wheelchair.