Fat Guy With Dreads Novels & Stories

This was Bettina, my good for nothing, beauty without brain cousin. "Whoah?! That much? Weren't you scammed, Yna?" she asked exagerratedly. "You know what, change into something else. A pink gown, perhaps? That way, you would just let your true nature show. A pig!" she burst out laughing after that. "Nicholas didn't mind when I showed him the dress, so why would you?" I asked back, rubbing in her face that my groom approved my attire. But the truth was, I was hurt. She was right. I am a pig. I did try losing weight over the past two weeks. But I guess, I haven't successfully shed ten pounds.

he thundered with his loud cracked scary voice. His looks alone were outrageous for any kid of my age. He was very huge and bald , he had tattoos drawn all over his body, especially on his bald head. Looking at him ,you would wonder if he happened to be the lord of the rings, due to the multiple pierces he had on his nose ,eyes, mouth and ears.

The inky, greasy, black hair on his head is slicked back, and he looks sleazy. Behind him and Felix are three pale people with bright red eyes. One is a beautiful dark-skinned female with braids tied up in a large bun on her head. She has a long slender face, big round eyes, plump lips painted maroon, and a matching tight dress showing off her hourglass figure. The one standing next to her looks exactly like the bald male version of her siblings, I guess. He's huge, bigger than the behemoth of a creep standing before them. One of his arms is the size of my head. Then next to him is a thin but well-muscled blonde man; his hair is short on the sides but long up top; he's got tattoos running up

However, she was so morbidly obese that she looked no different from a hippo, and any normal person would feel at once uncomfortable at the way her clothes were strained because of her size. On the other hand, the leader of the street sported a ridiculous haircut just like his men and was brandishing a metal bat while yapping, ""Who laid a finger on our manager?" "It was him!" Jackie exclaimed as he hurried to receive them before pointing at Frank, who was sitting nonchalantly in the distance. He was certainly delighted to see Plum and Scorpion coming so quickly and bringing so many goons. "Hmm…?" Plum's eyes lit up after studying Frank—he was not at all handsome, but there was an air to him

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.

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,

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.