Novel & Cerita Fat Guy With Dreads

I snap He subs, " I don't know, man.” He wails " He just introduced himself as Freando.” “Then what does he look like?" I ground out impatiently through gritted teeth. He sniffles, snot leaking down his chapped lips. “Mexican, bald, has a scar cutting across his hairline, and a beard. You can’t miss the scar, it’s pretty fucked looking.” I roll my neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It's been a fucking long day. “Cool, thanks man,” I say casually, as if I haven’t been torturing him slowly for the past three hours.

She has decided to gym with me. A snorfled laugh erupts to my left. I look up, and there he is. Dante Evans in black gym shorts and a shirt so tight it’s probably an act of violence against cotton. His hair is a mess, since this man doesn’t need a brush to look like a God, and that unfair jawline is on full display. He is watching me with an expression that says he just discovered a cat trying to do calculus. What the heck is he doing here? Aren’t famous people supposed to have their own gym? Did he think people wouldn’t recognize him here?

Typical. There is a cup of black coffee and a half-eaten croissant in front of him, and a sheen of greasy sweat coats his forehead. This guy really needs to start seeing a personal trainer, or he’ll die of his own sweat. "Well, well," Fausto sneers, his voice a gravelly rasp. "The prince finally graces us with his presence. You should know I don't like being kept waiting, boy. But I'll let this one slide. Just for today."

Gordie flexed his arm and asked, "You like my tats?" I nodded. "Yeah, they're really cool." "Thanks. See what I mean about being fat and hairy? No one would want this, would they?" Gordie smacked his hairy belly. "I don't think you're fat, Gordie. You're a big guy. The extra weight on you looks good... you look really manly." Gordie sat down next to me on the couch. He was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and socks. He was close enough I could feel the heat from his body.

He eyes me suspiciously as he walks closer, stopping a safe distance away. He doesn’t look like a man who controls billions of dollars. Casual white sweatpants, a white t-shirt with black stripes, a bowl of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. His hair—dark and light brown curls, thick and messy—is more than I’ve ever seen on a man. His beard is neatly shaved, his face sharply defined with cheekbones, a cut jawline, thick brows, and sunken eyes. He looks like a hot nerd. A geek who somehow narrowly escaped being ugly and he looks nothing like Jake too.

With the money, she got from Shane Lin, she decided to buy them all, the gate was opened. A fashionable dressed man entered the courtyard looking extremely cool, Mama Sarah and Mora blinked their eyes wondering who it was. The man removed the shade from his eyes, and smiled “Mama Sarah” he said and chuckled cheekily. Mama Sarah looked at him closely, “Fatty, is that you?” she asked and chuckled. Boss Cool scratched his head, Mama Sarah helped him lose a lot of weight in just two days, he looked like an Olympic athlete, and even his wife has begun to care about his feelings.

He finds a café to sit and have lunch. His food has just arrived when a man comes and sits at his table. The man was large, both tall and fat with thinning short grey hair. By the smell of him he was a wolf-shifter, and he wore a tired looking navy pinstriped suit with a white shirt and a blue tie. He might have looked handsome if he’d been thinner, but as it is he’s red in the face and sweating gently. His double chin wobbles gently as he speaks,

Not long after, I saw one and flagged it down, the driver of the truck stuck his head out of the window and hollered at me "hey big guy, how'ya doing?" he was a very fat man, who wore loose fitted dungarees, a massive dreadlock and had plenty tattoos and piercings. "I'm headed to New York city" I replied "hmm, New York, I see. I'm headed there meself, hop in" he said jovially. I hopped in.

His collar length brown hair frames his face beautifully, his sharp jaw in full display. He's wearing a black hoodie with the inscription, "Fuck off" and his black jeans trousers fits his lower body smugly. On his feet are a pair of black combat boots and on his ears are a pair of black stud earrings. Despite how drop dead gorgeous this guy is, there's something really off about him. There's this negative energy emanating from him in waves. I watch him as he settles down on one of the isolated chairs in the cafeteria, almost robotically. Without sparing anyone a glance, he begins to eat his food rather apathetically.

Someone started to laugh loudly. It was a young man with disheveled hair. He was dressed in very ordinary robes, barefoot and looking a little unkempt. The ankle part of a trouser leg was worn out, showing a calf densely covered with black hair. He was bold and unrestrained, imbibing fine wine and devouring all the delicacies on the short gold table like a rampaging tornado. His hands and mouth were covered with grease, as he casually wiped them on his tattered clothes, stretching himself lazily.