Chris Mr Beast Novels & Stories

Welcome to Mr Black Acknowledgement: Thank You so much for Choosing Mr Black!❤️ My name is Ogheneochuko Williams, the Writer of Mr Black, I want to thank you for clicking on this story, it's my favorite book ever and it took a lot for me to start it and eventually end it. I have always loved writing and I'm so happy that we young writers are being given a chance to come out of our shelves and write on a big platform like Good Novel.

“Aww. Are you afraid my dick is bigger than yours?” “You wish. This is 8 inches, baby,” I tap the front of my jeans. He looks surprised. “Bullshit.” “Aww, don't be butt hurt that your wee-wee is for children.” “Fuck off.” I chuckle as I walk out the door. “This is Chris. He likes the girl; he's got a nice face with a little wee-wee,” I sing as he follows me. He laughs. “I'm glad you aren't into music; that shit would've flopped so bad.”

His claws trembled at my throat, caught between killing and clinging. And then, with a sound like glass shattering, Zara’s last thread anchored into his spine. Her body went limp, crumpling into the mud, but it was enough. Maxim reeled back, the Beast howling in defiance. His roar wasn’t human. It wasn’t Hollow. It was something in between, split down the center, fractured but still holding. But when his gaze caught mine again, I knew which side still lived. The Beast didn’t know my name—but Maxim did.

“Booker Beaver and his wife, Cali Laurier, have been arrested today by the FBI for the alleged involvement with a notorious foreign organized crime who is known for human and sex trafficking…” I blocked the sound of the video and closed my eyes. I let go of a shuddering breath and let the tears roll down my cheeks. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and jump on the bed, but the only thing I could do was thank God and inwardly celebrate. So was this really over? “Hey. Are you okay?” I felt Piper rubbing my arm, comforting me. “Yeah.” I nodded and smiled. “Though my tummy hurts. How big is the wound?”

“Chris Bailey, are you going to sleep or not?” “I don’t want to! I’m fighting with these netizens. Mommy’s fanbase is too small, so I’m using a hundred different accounts to support her,” Chris answered as he switched between accounts in a quest to defend his dear Mommy. Anthony frowned. “So this is what you’ve been doing for hours?” “Yes! I won’t let anyone bully Mommy!” Chris pouted as he continued typing on his phone. Anthony leaned over and grabbed his phone from him. “This isn’t how you stand up for Mommy,” he spoke, sternly as he did. “Be a good boy and sleep early.h I’ll bring you to see her tomorrow.”

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Paige took the phone and saw it was an Instagram page. In particular, it was Chris’. Chris' Instagram surprisingly had tens of thousands of followers. His Instagram handle was “chrisjewell”, with the bio stating, Jewell Group COO. Chris rarely posted on Instagram. When he did, it was mostly to repost company-related news. It was a business-oriented Instagram devoid of personality. Even so, under his Instagram, there were many comments depicting how obsessed they were with Chris. [Babe, I love you.] [Babe, I want to have your baby.]

The commander spoke as they headed out the door. Christopher grinned. "I'm not Beast anymore." Bruce cocked his head in surprise. "You do know that we called you Beast because of how you are out on the field, right? The way you went through Crucible and everything else you tackle is what makes you a beast." Christopher shrugged. "I guess I didn't know that. But it didn't bother me. I don't mind being called Beast by you guys…" He left the rest unsaid and headed out of the room.

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CHRIS My name is Chris. I’m a 29-year-old newlywed, married to my high school sweetheart. I am 5 '10, with brown eyes and a slightly messy light brown hair that sweeps over my forehead. My physique is pretty nice for my age—not overly built or anything, just lean in a way that appeared natural. I have shoulders wide enough to fill out a shirt, lightly toned arms, a firm chest, but not the kind that looks sculpted in a gym mirror, and a stomach that is flat and easy, with nothing dramatic.